


Two Sides of a Coin

by Kittysongbird



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittysongbird/pseuds/Kittysongbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes careful digging to free a beautiful gem from a cold mountain's grasp. With polish and care, it can shine enough to see the value beneath. Only a fool would toss it away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sapphire

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the Hobbit nor the cannon storyline. I merely borrow them for play dates without charging for babysitting.

* * *

 

With a dozen dwarves running around Bag End, eating all of his food and touching everything in sight, Bilbo could feel his blood pressure rise.

Fili and Kili were currently tossing Bilbo's last block of cheese between them in an attempt to keep it away from Bombur who was sitting in the middle of the recently decimated pantry.

Balin and Ori were taking everything off of the mantle in the living room to settle a bet. They were attempting to figure out the doilies' purpose. Did it indeed need to be tied down by the vase and trinkets on top of it like Ori thought? Or was it in fact ensnaring the items in place like a vicious vine, as Balin assumed?

Boisterous laughter and all manner of sounds were coming from the kitchen where the rest of the dwarves were still eating.

There was no calmness. The little Master of the house could feel "The Other" start to wake up.

"No! No, no, no." Bilbo thought with his eyes closed.

He was leaning against the wall in the hallway, gasping for air. He knew that if something did not change soon, he would not be able to find the calmness again.

"Please, go back to sleep. Nothing is wrong. I have got this. They will not hurt us." Bilbo muttered repeatedly to himself.

He began swaying forwards and back on the balls of his feet, as if he were trying to rock a baby to sleep.

A large hand settled on his shoulder, startling Bilbo quite badly. He turned quickly to see Gandalf standing there, or as tall as a human could stand in a Hobbit's hallway. He looked slightly guilty but mostly worried.

"Alright there, my dear friend?" Gandalf asked quietly, so as to not be overheard by any dwarven ears.

Bilbo looked around at the dwarves with a growing sense of panic and terror. He was not afraid of the dwarves. They were kind-hearted in gruff sort of way. Oh, no, he was afraid _for_ them.

"Please, calm them down, Gandalf. "He" is waking." Bilbo whispered to his old friend.

Bilbo could feel The Other starting to take over his mind. The world around him was starting to disappear into blackness, like he was falling asleep. It had not happened for years. He lived alone, away from other Hobbits in order to prevent it.

Through the encroaching darkness, Bilbo tried to focus on his friend, begging silently for help. He could tell by the growing alarm on Gandalf's face that his eyes were starting to glow.

A knock at the door startled everyone inside of Bag End. It was a loud sound, seemingly made by someone who wanted the door answered yesterday.

The suddenness of the sound made the glow disappear from Bilbo's eyes. He could actually feel himself beginning to calm down and The Other went back to sleep.

* * *

 

Gandalf sighed in relief to see the glow disappear from Bilbo's brown eyes and silently vowed to keep the dwarves from causing Bilbo too much trouble.

"It was unwise to upset him", the wizard thought grimly.

After making sure that Bilbo was back, he moved to greet Thorin at the door. He knew that the dwarves were just being dwarves- curious, loud, and glad for the rare chance to relax together in a safe place.

The fools were underestimating Bilbo Baggins, but that did not mean they deserved to face The Other Master of Bag End.

* * *

 

"His fate will be in your hands, Gandalf. The Halfling is useless to me" Thorin growled. The King under the Mountain still sat at Bilbo's kitchen table surrounded by his company.

He was not impressed by the Burglar that Gandalf had promised lived here in the Shire. The Hobbit was too soft, too innocent, and too much of a liability on the difficult quest to take back Erebor.

Did the human take him for a fool? Bilbo Baggins was more of a child's doll than a warrior or burglar.

Thorin could just picture having to travel with the little creature: whining about dirt, traveling, or how the dwarves should act more like respectable Hobbits.

At the first temper tantrum about missing second breakfast, Thorin vowed to send the kid back to the Shire with a smacked bottom for wasting their precious time.

Lost in his musings, the dwarf king did not see that Bilbo was not only behind him, but had overheard. Thorin would not have cared that Bilbo heard his cruel words, but Gandalf did.

It was the eerie quiet around the table of dwarves that alerted Thorin that something was wrong. This lot, especially his nephews, were never this quiet or motionless.

The entire company was staring at something behind him with growing looks of horror and fascination on their faces.

All of Thorin's instincts were screaming at him to turn around and face whatever danger was causing these battle-hardened warriors in front of him to show fear.

* * *

 

The wizard closed his eyes in defeat as he saw that Bilbo's eyes had changed from brown to a glowing black. It was not a natural black color, but a haunting hue like staring straight into the abyss.

The light would not be contained by his eyes, however. There were cracks appearing all over Bilbo's skin which began leaking out the glowing light. It shined around the Hobbit like the rarest of sapphires.

It was not the light that bothered Gandalf, for he had only moments before produced a similar glow when being bombarded with questions about dragon-slaying. The reason behind its appearance is what caused a shiver of fear to travel down his spine. Bilbo was gone; and The Other was awake.


	2. Kimberlite

Disclaimer: I am not paid to write fanfiction nor do I own the Hobbit franchise, regardless of how many coins I throw into the wishing well.

Onwards, then!

* * *

 

Dwalin had been protecting Thorin since the King was born. It was his family's sworn duty for centuries. He would stand between danger and the royal family without a second thought and proudly give his life for them.

It seemed to the dwarf that part of his duty now included being the first to arrive at Bag End. He knew those mischievous Durin Dwarflings' would try to sneak ahead of the company.

No dwarf had ever met one of the small folk nor thought it necessary to do so. Hobbits were simple folk with an unnerving resemblance to woodland creatures with all their frolicking and parties. Not to mention their distinct lack of shoes. Never had they suffered what the grown-up species had to deal with in daily life. It was painful to see an entire race so ignorant.

Therefore, the company was shocked to learn that Gandalf's choice for their last member hailed from the Shire.

Dwalin actually flinched as he glanced over the campfire at Thorin's nephews. The thought of meeting a Hobbit had Fili and Kili practically bouncing in place with excitement.

Most people who met Dwalin saw only muscles and tattoos. He used that misconception to his advantage. After all, intimidation was useful at settling disputes without bloodshed. He encouraged people to underestimate his intelligence. Did they not know one had to have some cleverness to outsmart a Durin?

The secret to keeping the royal family safe was to expect their troublemaking before they did it and without their knowledge. The last was key.

Balin was the only witness to Dwalin "acquiring" Fili's bead and placing it discreetly in Kili's pack. With a shared look, they silently left camp on their way to visit the Hobbit. It was important to assess the possible threat.

_Let Thorin be the good uncle and deal with the following tantrum as Fili and Kili fight over how the bead got there_ , Dwalin thought with a smirk.

"My beard turned white prematurely from all the King's shenanigans as a dwarfling. I almost enjoy watching him have to deal with a double dose of it now" Balin chuckled good-naturedly, seeming to read his brother's mind.

Dwalin couldn't agree more. It was good to travel with someone who knew him this well.

* * *

 

Balin realized with a sinking feeling that they had underestimated Bilbo Baggins. He should have known the wizard would not mistakenly insist on a simple grocer for the dangerous journey.

Watching the glowing light piercing through the skin of the Halfling, Balin felt awe and overwhelming terror. It was the same feeling he had when he first saw Smaug approaching Erebor.

_What is happening? How is this happening?,_ were Balin's last thoughts before Bilbo's kitchen faded from sight.

When his eyes opened again, he gasped. His heart was thumping painfully in his chest like a hammer chipping away at a mountain side.

He recognized immediately the high parapet of Erebor where the archers kept watch for any attack. Through dazed eyes, he looked around at the faces that were burned into his memory so long ago.

All of them were alive.

He scrubbed his face with both hands, trying to wake himself from whichever nightmare ensnared him. It did not help. They were still patrolling in front of him, just as they had that terrible night.

Some of these dwarves he had known and trained with his entire life. For centuries, this had been his company. He was the sole survivor from them. Over the years, there had been a growing sense of guilt when he remembered these brave lads. It was only by chance that Thorin had saved him when Smaug's fire had taken out this place.

_All of them had families and friends who loved them. Why was I the only one to survive this?_ Balin thought brokenly.

He could feel the tears streaming down his face as he saw the dragon break through the clouds and fly straight to where he was standing.

* * *

 

_Fool of a King! May Dwarven pride not be the death of me_ , Gandalf prayed to any god that might be listening.

The incredible power and malevolence was pouring out of his dear friend and encompassing the room. It reminded the wizard of when he was a lad and had almost drowned in the river rapids.

Gandalf could feel his eyes closing slowly. The sound of a roaring river grew heavily in his mind. The crushing feel of the water as he fell in was almost surreal considering how long ago it had happened.

"No! I will not allow it!", Gandalf roared.

The awful feeling of drowning was instantly banished from his mind as his magic broke the spell that had started to take hold of him.

According to many, Gandalf the Grey is a very powerful wizard. It is sometimes easy to forget that there are beings even more powerful than himself. Sympathy overwhelms the wizard for a moment. His Hobbit friend endured this burden on a daily basis.

"I want to talk to Bilbo", Gandalf whispers, putting as much power as he could into the words.

He walks carefully, struggling with each step until he can stand between the dwarves and The Other. It is creepy to feel the dark gaze watch him the entire time. When it speaks, The Other's voice is deep and holds a terrible power.

The resounding "No" that follows makes Gandalf's task seem far more complicated than he had originally hoped.

"Wizard, why are you here?" The Other demands, the word "Wizard" sounding like the worst of insults. Gandalf's responding flinch seems to amuse it.

"The dwarves wish to reclaim Erebor from a dragon. We need Bilbo's skill as a burglar for this quest." Gandalf replied.

There was no immediate response. It stared at Thorin for a few minutes with a cold look of calculation.

"Just Bilbo's skill?", it murmured.

The contract that had lain on the table appeared suddenly in the Hobbit's hand. The Other was looking for something very specific.

"Would not an army be the weapon of choice instead of a small company? Why do you need a burglar" The Other growled.

When Gandalf did not immediately answer, his focus returned to the wizard. Bilbo's peaceful face twisted into a visage of hate and contempt. It was an unnatural look for a Hobbit.

"You have some nerve to come here after what you did to us. He is very forgiving, but I am not. Why would I help you?" it sneered.

Despite the first spell and hateful tone of voice, the creature seemed curious about the quest. Or it wanted to make the wizard suffer. Possibly, it was stalling for time to do one powerful attack that would make a terrible mess for Bilbo to clean later. Hopefully, it was curiosity but, more likely, all three were at play.

Gandalf forcibly relaxed his features and focused his attention on relighting his pipe. He needed to choose his words wisely otherwise the quest would be over tonight.

While adding more tobacco, he glanced behind him at the dwarves. The looks of vacancy and terror on their faces was disturbing to see.

The muscles in Dwalin's arms were twitching as if he were trying to swing his ax in battle. Fili and Kili were flinching sporadically from whatever it was they were seeing.

Thorin still had his back turned towards the wizard as he did not get a chance to move before the spell took hold of him.

Gandalf considered it a small blessing that he did not have to see all the pain trapped in the King of the Mountain's soul.

_Hold on just a moment longer,_ Gandalf thought to them.

It was the gradual but increasing brightness of the room that had him looking back to The Other.

The glow from the many rips in Bilbo's skin was already rippling and diminishing: a rather welcome sign that The Other was falling asleep again. The room itself seemed to feel lighter, as if all the gloom was reabsorbed into Bilbo.

A flash of light near the Hobbit's hand caught Gandalf's eye. It was coming from the contract.

Towards the bottom of the document, below Thorin and Balin's signature, a small, black symbol was there now. It was smoking slightly as a dying ember would in a campfire.

"Don't make us regret this" The Other whispered softly as Bilbo returned.

_I wonder why he signed it?_ Gandalf thought as the dwarves were released from the spell.

* * *

 

_As bad as the blackouts are_ , Bilbo thought, _the worst part is waking up afterwards and not knowing what happened_.

He still remembered the time he had been cleaning the dishes after Second Breakfast in his kitchen, minding his own business. It seemed only a second later that he was standing in the middle of his bathroom with the moon shining high outside the window. He could recall just starring at his own shocked reflection.

Then again, the worst part of it might be living alone; no one was there to tell him what had happened during his "naptime".

Since both of them could not be awake at the same time, Bilbo had no control or knowledge over what The Other did, but the thought of what his body was capable of doing often brought him to tears.

For an adult Hobbit to be afraid of the dark was ridiculous. And yet, Bilbo knew the rest of the Shire could not even begin to fathom the true darkness residing deep within him.

This time was different, however.

Once the dark cleared from his eyes, Bilbo saw that he was surprisingly still in the same spot near his kitchen. The only difference was that Gandalf was standing before him.

"Go invisible, now!" Gandalf whispered forcefully.

Bilbo felt a sense of unease at the implications from that simple request. Had The Other done something horrible again?

_Not the dwarves!_ Bilbo begged to The Other inside of him. There was no response, as usual.

A familiar hum filled the air surrounding Bilbo and the hairs on his feet swayed in an invisible breeze. It's been years since he used this skill.

Looking down, Bilbo noticed the contract in his hand, appearing to float in midair. The Other must have been holding it when he woke up.

* * *

 

"What happened? Where is the Halfling?" Thorin demanded, glaring up at the wizard.

The other dwarves in the company were yawning and rubbing their eyes sluggishly.

It felt as though they were waking from a dream. They could not exactly remember the dream. It was fading too fast from their minds.

"Is he alright? It looked like something was attacking him." Bofur asked. The worry on his face was well-matched by the others in the company.

Flipping a coin in the air and catching it, the wizard watched the coin intently for a second, and then smiled brilliantly at the company. He tossed it at Thorin, who caught the coin and slammed it on Bilbo's table. The Dwarf King did not seem to appreciate his gift.

"A coin has two sides. It is forged of the same metal and holds the same value, regardless of which side is facing up. The two sides are doomed never to see eye to eye for they can never be facing up at the same time." Gandalf replied as if that explained everything.

"Speak plainly for once in your life, wizard, and answer our questions!" Thorin roared as Ori whispered quietly, "Is he alright, Mr. Gandalf?"

"He is as fine as can be expected. It is not my story to tell. If it were, I would have told you before we reached the Shire. All that I can say is that my little Burglar has suffered greatly so that others might live in peace." Gandalf said sadly.

"If he is alright, then where is he?", Balin asked. He started to leave the kitchen, searching for the Hobbit. He wanted to see for himself the lad was unharmed.

Gandalf subtly took the contract that was floating behind him and motioned for Bilbo to follow. He returned to his seat at the opposite end of the table from Thorin.

"A master burglar is not a warrior who charges the enemy with a battle yell. He strikes from the shadows, with great speed and subterfuge before the enemy can even blink an eye." Gandalf drawled slowly.

The wizard reached out for Ori's feather quill which seemed to live in the dwarf's pocket.

"Will you sign the contract, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked quietly.

There was a slight pause before the quill floated out of Gandalf's hand and signed "Bilbo Baggins". The small symbol from The Other became the dot topping the second letter of his name.


	3. Obsidian

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit or any Hobbitiness

* * *

 

"Invisible" Nori whispered in wonder.

Dori opened his eyes, groaning at the sound of his brother's muttering. The rest of company was sound asleep on the floor of Bag End, and he wished to join them in slumber.

Mr. Baggins had graciously given them quilts to use as bedding for the night. Poor little guy was embarrassed at all the fuss over the contract and wanted to make amends.

His brother could certainly learn a thing or two from the Hobbit. Invisibility was definitely not one of them, though.

It had been years since he last spoke with Nori. Rumor said there had been a dispute between them, but that was far from the truth. Both of them knew the family business was not doing well and had taken steps to hide and fix it. His parents would not have survived the scandal. While Dori was trying to find a legal way to get out of the red, Nori had simply chosen another route. His intentions were good and that was what Dori chose to see. It had been a long time since all three brothers slept safely under one roof. Probably not since before Smaug…

"Go to sleep" Dori grumbled, attempting to dispel the depressing turn of his thoughts. He could never forget the fall of Erebor, but redirection worked wonders.

"Can you imagine how useful it is to turn invisible, Brother?" Fili whispered, joining the conversation that Dori had been hoping to end.

Kili seemed to be considering what a dwarfling with a mischievous disposition could do with invisibility. A slow grin spread over his face. "It certainly would have been useful for avoiding our Uncle's glaring all these years."

An inelegant snort erupted from Dori before he could stop it. He quickly pretended to snore after that to avoid suspicion.

As an older brother, he had enough experience with glaring to be an expert. He would never admit to standing in front of a mirror as a dwarfling to practice glaring because that would sound very foolish. It was a shame Nori was immune to glares. The practice-that-shall-never-be-mentioned did work on Ori so Dori considered it a success.

"We could do anything at all without being accused of any wrongdoing. No one would ever _see_ us." Nori whispered to them.

As much as he loved his brother, Nori was capable of getting the royal family involved into some "delicate" trouble which would somehow get blamed on Dori. It always worked out that way. The eldest child is always accountable for any and all trouble.

"I bet we could go an entire day without Uncle glaring at us if we were invisible." Kili smirked.

"You mean that he glares at you everyday?" Dori sputtered. He had meant to ignore them, but that was a scary thought. Could the King's face be stuck in a permanent glare because of those two?

"Well, there had to have been one day in our lives that we did not get into trouble." Fili muttered.

Dori was suddenly very grateful that he only had one troublemaker in the family. Sweet, little Ori was always quiet and respectful, spending more time reading a book than thinking up ways to make Dori pull his hair out. It was a pity that Nori did not take after either of his brothers.

"Oh! Oh, I remember now. My fifth birthday Uncle didn't glare at us." Kili smirked, proud that he had thought of a glare-free day first. Dori thought it was a little sad that their Uncle glared _that_ much. The dwarfling's happiness was short-lived, however.

Fili sighed dramatically. "Silly, Kili! You don't remember the catapult kit you got that year? We worked on it for an hour, building it to spec. Come to think of it, I really don't know why Dwalin gave it to you. Did he really think it would be untested?"

"Nowhere did it say to use a burning coal for a projectile! You brought that trouble onto yourself, lad" Dwalin's voice rumbled from across the room.

Overwhelmed by frustration, Dori stuffed his head under his pillow. All he wanted to do was sleep. It was exhausting traveling all day. Why is no one else tired? The rest of the company was not only awake, but listening to this ludicrous conversation when they should all be sleeping.

Kili quickly punched his brother in the arm. "You were the one who said it had to be realistic! "All the battles of old were won by raining a flaming death to the enemy" you said."

Fili punched his brother back twice as hard. "You were supposed to be keeping watch! Instead of watching the door, you were watching the burning piece of coal fly."

An all-out brawl began between the two brothers. Any dwarf who had been sleeping soon became involved in the fight as the two dwarves rolled over anything in their path.

"All I wanted was some sleep!" Dori roared as he punched Nori.

* * *

 

"Don't you remember what the Council said? There was absolutely no loophole in their decree that I be kept here. Are you certain you have thought this through? I don't want you to get into trouble" Bilbo asked Gandalf uncertainly. The wizard took a moment to ponder his answer.

They were collecting ingredients in the garden before the company would leave in the morning. The Hobbit had an assortment of plants thriving in the small space. Several were used for healing. Other herbs, though, were dangerous poison ingredients so deadly that a dab of poison could kill a warg with the smallest of cuts. He decided to let Bilbo collect those for the journey ahead.

"If you are truly worried about the White Council, with regards to The Other, then I believe this quest supersedes those concerns." Gandalf spoke with a confidence that often swayed others in the past. He hoped to use it now to ease his friend's mind.

The wizard had always believed his friend had suffered unjustly at the hands of the Council all those years ago. With the trouble Bilbo had gone through on their behalf, it was unfair to force imprisonment of this gentle soul with such an unwanted and dangerous guest. The quest was an opportunity to bring some joy and adventure back into Bilbo's life and, hopefully, some redemption into his own.

"How does our quest to reclaim Erebor effect the White Council?" asked a deep voice behind them.

The King under the Mountain stood in the shadow of a nearby apple tree. Neither Gandalf nor Bilbo had heard him approach. It was a remarkable feat of stealth, especially considering the King was still in full armor.

A very suspicious glare was focused entirely on the wizard as if he was waiting for a lie or some cryptic answer that the wizard was likely to give. A cry from inside the house saved Gandalf from thinking on the spot.

" _You're_ the one that hit Uncle in the face. _You_ burnt half his beard off!" roared Kili.

Gandalf had no idea what was causing the crashing noises in the house. He had always thought it was terribly unwise to leave dwarves unsupervised. Trouble followed them everywhere. Hopefully, this was not a glimpse of what was to come. Thorin gave them both a final glare and marched inside. Silence descended over Bag End once again.

With a great sigh of relief, they went back to collecting herbs. Attempting to explain The Other would be a direct violation of the decree. Gandalf was quite sure, however, that with some smooth talking, he would tell the dwarves without breaking the law. It would just take more thought.

"Now that things have settled, I'll turn in. Try to sleep, Bilbo. We move out at first light." Gandalf said to his old friend. The Hobbit wished him good night in return. He spent a few minutes watching Bilbo from the shadows, as the Dwarf King had done. The Hobbit was still collecting herbs from the garden. His friend still worried about the expected reactions from the dwarves and the Council.

"They should be told soon. If trouble is coming, we all need to be ready", the wizard muttered solemnly as he turned to go back into the house. If only he had waited a minute more, then Gandalf would have seen the change in Bilbo's eyes. The Other began chipping a piece of stone from the house's outer wall.

* * *

 

Ori sat on the bench in front of Bag End. He knew time was of the essence. Losing sleep was well worth preserving the beauty of the Shire at dawn in his notes.

The view from the doorstep was absolutely breathtaking. From here to the horizon, there were farmlands, brimming full of more food than even Mr. Bombur could eat. Every hill had a Hobbit home carved into it. It was almost beyond comprehension for a dwarf to imagine this beautiful, peaceful place. There was no war or even a threat of war. A place like this should be sacred. Ori hoped that his drawing could capture even a portion of the spirit of the land.

As a dwarf, Ori had been taught that gold and gems were the only treasure of value. It was the only thing that mattered in life besides family. While that explanation may work for other dwarves, it was not what Ori thought, not at all.

When Erebor had fallen to Smaug, the dwarves lost everything especially their loved ones and the sense of home. Ori knew that there was something else that had disappeared too- the soul of his people. Dwarves were struggling to survive and did not have time for writing or drawing. There was no outlet for their grief. When Erebor is reclaimed, he hoped that things would go back to the way they should be.

There was value in telling and illustrating stories. By learning from the mistakes of the past, the present and future could be made all the sweeter by not repeating those mistakes. He felt that this journey would be worth remembering. Every detail needed to be preserved.

Ori suddenly felt a presence behind him. Someone was gazing over his shoulder at the sketch of the Shire.

"We are leaving in a few minutes, lad. You'll have to draw the rest from memory." Balin said kindly. With a pat on the back, Balin moved outside the gate to the company ponies.

With a jolt of surprise, Ori realized everyone had already packed the horses while he had been sketching the landscape. The only ones left in Bag End were Mr. Bilbo and Gandalf.

As he collected his bag of writing material, he could hear the most curious conversation going on behind him. While eavesdropping was not very polite, Ori could not help it.

"Wait for me to pass through the gate, and then I will reach back for you. Hold tightly to my hand, Bilbo. Your life will depend on it." Crouching next to the doorway, Ori could see Gandalf standing in the foyer trying to calm a very distraught Hobbit.

"I tried to go out the gate once, years ago. It only took one try for me to get the message. What if this doesn't work?" Bilbo whispered fiercely.

Ori furrowed his brow in thought. It sounded like Mr. Bilbo was afraid to leave his house. Within the town that Ori's family had settled, there was a human who never left home. The man was terrified that something horrible would happen outside the safety of his house. Family would bring food and provisions for survival. Unfortunately, a fire started in the house next door. The man died when the fire spread to his home. Ultimately, his fear was the death of him.

Mr. Baggins must have that fear too. Gandalf must have known and recommended the Hobbit as the company's Burglar in order to save him. Some people truly have a difficult burden to carry. Ori silently sent courage to his new friend as he left the doorway to secure his own pony.

"We are wasting daylight. Now or never, Burglar!" Thorin shouted.

Gandalf strode calmly out of the gate while glaring at the King the entire time. He took a moment to gather his strength before turning around to face the Hobbit.

"Don't be afraid, Mr. Baggins _."_ Ori whispered.

Bilbo was staring at his home as if he were drawing a picture in his mind: every root, room, and memory. The Hobbit finally turned and grasped Gandalf's outstretched hand. It happened so fast. The wizard yanked him through the open gate.

A flash of light blinded Ori. He heard rather than saw both of his brothers move their horses between himself and the house. A magical shockwave came towards them. It was strong enough to ruffle their beards but not enough to knock them over. The ponies tried to run away but were held back by their riders. It took Ori a few minutes to calm his horse.

"By Aule…" Dori whispered next to him. Glancing up, Ori could see past his brothers to Mr. Bilbo's house. Behind the wizard, Bag End was gone!

"What just happened?!" Nori whispered.

Where Bag End had stood just a minute ago, there was a now a large, stone structure. It was the exact size of Bag End, inside and out. The stone walls were made of a hardened lava, almost obsidian. White runes covered the entire surface. It was in a language that Ori did not recognize.

What a strange and forbidding sight it was in the beautiful Shire, made stranger still by its sudden replacement of Bag End. All of the rooms, garden, and even the bench that Ori had been sitting on was gone.

"Start explaining, Wizard! What was that spell? What happened?" Thorin demanded.

Gandalf stood before the stone structure holding a shaking Hobbit in his arms. After assuring himself that Bilbo was intact, the wizard turned to look at what was once Bag End. Surprisingly, it was the Hobbit who answered the king.

"Several years ago, I angered the White Council. They wanted to kill me, but Gandalf convinced them that imprisonment would be a greater punishment. Never again to talk to my friends and family. I could only observe them, like I was a ghost. The elves destroyed Bag End to build this prison." Bilbo whispered brokenly. Ori could see tears streaming down the Hobbit's face as Gandalf lead him to the wizard's horse.

"Elves destroyed your home in order to build your prison in the same spot?" Balin asked appalled at such a horrible thing. To lose everything because of elves struck a cord of sympathy in the heart of every dwarf.

"Why were they angry at you? What happened?" Kili asked hesitantly. Fili was quick to elbow his brother in the side. He glanced at Kili and then nodded at the apparent misery on Mr. Bilbo's face.

Ori could not understand why anyone would do something so cruel to such a good and innocent soul as Mr. Bilbo. The Hobbit had been a gracious host, providing food and blankets to his uninvited guests. The dwarves kept staring at the prison as Gandalf placed the Hobbit gently atop his horse.

"All of it was an illusion?" Ori asked the wizard as he climbed into the saddle behind the Hobbit.

Gandalf glanced at him sharply. He held the reins to Bilbo's pony in one hand while the other hand held the reins for his own horse.

At Ori's question, Bilbo began to sob quietly. The young dwarf felt awful for causing more pain. He could feel tears starting in his own eyes.

"The spell provided all of the necessities of life. Food, clothing, and a copy of any of the the items that had been in the house before it was destroyed. It… was a small mercy" Gandalf answered quietly.

The King moved his pony between the wizard and the prison, blocking the view of the house from the Hobbit. He was starring intently at Mr. Bilbo.

"Never trust an elf!" came a murmur from where the Hobbit had buried his face on Gandalf's shoulder.

"Elves are capable of unbelievable cruelty. My people learned this the hard way, too. You are one of us" the king said. He briefly touched the Hobbit's shoulder before giving the order to move out.

Looking down at his sketch of the Shire, the view that had been so breathtaking to Ori a few minutes ago now was sad. To think, Mr. Baggins must have watched this unchanging landscape from his prison. No hope of ever leaving. It was more of a tomb than a prison.

The young dwarf heard Mr. Bilbo whisper "My home is just a drawing in my head now."

He suddenly wished that he had spent the morning drawing Bag End instead…


	4. Silvering

Disclaimer: The Hobbit or any of Tolkien's work does not belong to me. Without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

 

Sitting by the ledge overlooking the West, Arwen continued to mend her brother's cloak. It had been years since she was home.

Her brothers were exactly as she had remembered them. Both of them were considered to be a mirror image of her father at that age, with less stress and more joy in their expressions. People often had trouble telling the twins apart. Arwen could not understand their confusion.

After years spent traveling with her Grandmother, Lady Galadriel, Arwen was learning the family's ancient magic and knowledge. According to Grandmother's mirror, Arwen would need to constantly practice in order to carry on in her Grandmother's footsteps.

The top floor of the West Tower of the Last Homely Home in Imladris was still Arwen's favorite place in all of Middle Earth, especially at dawn. As the highest point in the land, she could see over the rolling hills of the Trollshaw and into the plains of the Lone Lands. Many elves would sit atop the East Tower at dawn to watch the breathtaking view, but Arwen preferred the West Tower. She would never admit but it was not just the view that prompted her return. The mystery of the spyglass beckoned her.

Lord Elrond, her father, had started posting a guard for the West Tower a few years ago. The guards never questioned his decision, at least not within earshot. Strangely, the West Tower guards would not watch for attacks or incoming patrols. Instead, a spyglass had been installed. It was fixed to the floor and unable to move at all. Whoever was on duty would have to sit and watch one location the entire shift. No explanations were ever forthcoming.

Her twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were on guard duty tonight while she mended Elrohir's cloak. They would take turns being on guard while the other would speak with her. Her brothers were covering the shift for a friend who had fallen ill.

Arwen had not seen them in years. It was worth losing sleep to speak to them about everything and nothing. Being over 2,500 years old, her heart felt light to think of their childhood days. Despite her brothers choosing the warriors path, she knew they would never judge her for any nonsensical conversations or feelings discussed. Time could not touch a bond like theirs.

A sharp shiver wracked her frame suddenly. She dropped the cloak. The needles made a loud tapping noise as they followed it to the floor.

"You seem troubled, Sister. What is it?" Elrohir asked. Arwen could feel the color drain from her face. There was a growing sense of unease deep in her soul. It was unnatural for an elf to feel sudden despair like this. She closed her eyes trying to focus on the source.

"I feel like something is going to happen. Something extraordinary which will change everything." Arwen whispered.

Elladan turned away from the spyglass to look at his sister. Both of her brothers held one of her hands to lend their support. As soon as all three siblings joined hands, the brothers felt the dread that weighed heavy on her heart. Ever since they were children, emotions could be shared over their bond through physical contact.

"I'll get help." Elrohir said, quickly leaving to get their Grandmother. The Lady would know what to do.

A thought popped into her mind. It was as if the wind had carried her Grandmother's voice to her, but she heard not with her ears, but with her soul.

"Help me, Brother. I must look through the spyglass." Arwen said, following her intuition. Her brother hesitated slightly. Father had ordered that no one save a guard or a member of the White Council could look.

"I would not ask if it were not important." Arwen's assurance convinced him. She started to sway when standing as if a great wind were trying to carry her away. Elladan gently held her steady as she peered through the spyglass. A part of her was excited to finally see what had obsessed her father about the view. After all the years spent in curiosity, the view was unexpected.

Gazing through the spyglass, she saw past the lands of Men and into the Shire. It was a beautiful landscape. For some unknown reason, her father was spying on a Hobbit home! She had read of the small folk that lived in the Shire. All of her studies indicated that Hobbits were an innocent and light-hearted people. Mithrandir spoke highly of them.

"Did he consider one of them to be a threat?" Arwen muttered to Elladan. From her peripheral vision, she saw him shrug and answer, "You know Father does not speak of matters from his past. The Hobbit home that we watch seems to trouble him but there has been no indication of why that is."

Extending her spirit as Grandmother had taught her, Arwen looked again at the Hobbit home. A dark, foreboding cloud seemed to be moving inside the house. What sort of magic was this?

A sudden flash caught her attention. The light so powerful that it caused intense pain, like staring directly at the sun. She screamed and covered her eyes. Tears began streaming down her face. Elladan caught her as Arwen crumbled to the floor. Lord Elrond and Elrohir came running up the stairs at the sound of her cries.

"What happened, Child?" Father demanded. Arwen rested against Elladan's shoulder trying to regain her strength. Her brother kept a hand covering her eyes in a futile attempt to shield them from the sunlight of the dawn. Father knelt beside them.

"Arwen extended her spirit while looking through the spyglass. She saw something." Elladan gasped. He could not catch his breath. All he could do was panic watching helplessly as his little sister was in pain.

"It changed, Father. Look!" Elrohir exclaimed. He had glanced through the spyglass before his brother spoke. He moved to kneel by his sister as Father quickly took his place at the spyglass.

The house was gone. A sense of dread filled Elrond at the sight of the familiar stone structure that was now there. In front of the building, a dark cloud was moving. "He's free…", Elrond whispered. He leaned closer to the spyglass as if that would allow him to see more clearly. Some people were standing in front of the house next to the cloud. One was taller than the rest, maybe a man or an elf. Smaller beings stood nearby, probably Hobbits. It was difficult to see them clearly from this distance.

Turning to his children, the boys were looking at him for guidance despite their worry. His precious girl was caught in a world of pain, whimpering every time she tried to open her eyes.

Elrond grasped Elrohir's shoulder tightly. "You and your brother must go and bring Tom Bombadil here. I'll assemble the Council"

* * *

 

Bofur knew it was impolite to stare but he couldn't help it. The little Hobbit was still riding with Gandalf but had calmed considerably since leaving the Shire. Bofur hated to see a friend feeling this poorly. There had to be some way to lift his spirits, but how?

He continued to follow behind Ori's pony in the company line-up. Smoking his pipe, Bofur considered the problem of the Hobbit. The dwarves were on their way to reclaim their home, but where did the Hobbit have to call home? It certainly was not Bag End. The solid stone building was so sturdy, it would give a dwarven miner pause before demolition. Looking at the stone, there was a sense of wrongness about it, almost as if an evil saturated the very pours of the stone.

Bofur hoped he would never have to return there again. Erebor would have to become the Hobbit's home, then. The king himself had declared that Bilbo was one of them. He finally had a plan by the time the company stopped to setup camp for the night.

"Mr. Ori, may I have a word?" Bofur asked his fellow dwarf as Ori was securing his pony.

"Of course, Mr. Bofur." Ori said. The young dwarf stopped unpacking his bedroll to give his full attention to him.

"Do you have any books with you?" Bofur asked. "I know that dwarven literature is rare, but perhaps a book about our culture would do nicely"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bofur. We left home rather quickly. I'm afraid I only had a chance to bring instruments for writing about our journey. Perhaps we will find something for you to read along the way."

"Oh, it is not for me. You see, Mr. Bilbo is one of us now. We have only the journey ahead to prepare him for living in Erebor." Bofur replied.

Ori's eyes lit up at the chance to help Mr. Baggins. "Quite right, Mr. Bofur! Let us speak to Balin about this. He will know what to do."

* * *

 

Routine is what kept Bilbo sane all these years. He filled his days with chores and duties. Gardens do not tend themselves! Books do not read themselves! And Bag End was quite spacious compared to other Hobbit homes and was, therefore, more work to keep clean. The schedule was everything.

For the first time in years, Bilbo was not keeping to the schedule. A small part of him was terrified that the schedule was being changed. It was so ingrained in his thoughts and actions that to be spontaneous was now foreign to him. Prior to his work for the Council, spontaneity was his motto. It apparently came back in fashion which pleased the rest of Bilbo to no end.

With his newfound freedom, he was somewhat at a loss of what he should be doing, if anything at all. The contract had only specified his role when they reached Erebor. It was a bit vague on his duties in between the Shire and Erebor, however. The only decision he had made so far was to observe his surroundings and enjoy his freedom.

Outside of Bag End, the wind seemed fresh and clean. A great weight had been lifted off of his chest as if the air in Bag End had been stagnant. There was more truth to that thought than Bilbo cared to consider. Instead, he focused on his companions.

These loud, crazy, hard-headed dwarves were full of life, mischief, and all sorts of emotions that had been a void in Bilbo's solitary world. It was endearing, to say the least. Furthermore, traveling with Gandalf was guaranteed to be exciting for the wizard always seemed to be involved in every important story that Bilbo had ever heard. The journey ahead would certainly not be dull.

Gandalf began humming as he followed in the line of dwarven riders. The noise startled Bilbo who jumped slightly. The wizard continued to hum as if Bilbo had not reacted. As he settled down, he hoped that unexpected noises would not continue to startle him. His nerves would not take the stress.

Fili and Kili were riding directly ahead of them. The two dwarves were fascinating to watch. They did not talk but seemed to hold entire conversations with their actions. When Fili saw something moving off of the trail, he would tap his own knee and Kili would turn to stare in the same direction. Or Kili would pat his elbow three times and Fili would nod or shake his head. It was most extraordinary. Both dwarves turned around suddenly to look at Bilbo and smiled. When they were about to speak, Dwalin yelled a question to them from the front of the company.

"I wonder what that is about" Bilbo said as the brothers answered Dwalin. He turned slightly to look at Gandalf as the wizard chuckled.

"My dear friend, this is the first time you have traveled with Dwarves. When you get a group of different families together like this, you will find all manner of madness and mayhem in the future. The arguing and the fighting is like a Took family reunion that I once had the honor of participating in when your Mother was a child. Everyone is involved in everyone else's life. A strong bond hums quietly in the background though. The only time there is agreement is when a member of the family is in trouble from an outside force. Everyone will rally for the cause. The only time there is a chance of silence is at mealtime."

Bilbo started to laugh. Thinking of these dwarves as honorary Tooks would make the journey much easier. "Don't you mean the only time they are silent is when they are asleep?" Bilbo asked cheerfully.

"All dwarves snore. It is as true as all adult dwarves having beards." Fili answered while smirking at his brother. The two dwarflings had approached Gandalf's horse at the sound of laughter.

Scratching his smooth chin, Kili pouted at his brother. He was about to respond back when Thorin called for them to setup camp.

The campsite was right by the side of the mountain. It had a small cave that was large enough to keep the company dry in inclement weather.

All of the dwarves dispersed as soon as the horses were secured like worker bees on a mission. Fili and Kili both scouted for food. Dori and Nori were picking up nearby branches that would be ideal for firewood. Dwalin was working with the others to setup all the bedrolls. Even Gandalf was busy, discussing the route for the next day with the King. Bilbo stood by the horses feeling strangely alone and out-of-place until Bombur spoke from across the camp.

"Mr. Bilbo, would you help me with supper? Your excellent cooking skills would be greatly appreciated."

* * *

 

After leaving the Shire this morning, Thorin could not stop thinking about the Halfling. Sleep eluded him completely for the rest of the evening. Smoking his pipe, the King sat on a log near the mouth of the cave. He was supposed to wake his nephews for the second watch but had decided to stay awake and think.

Prejudice was a dangerous thing for a king. It could cloud the mind and unnecessarily turn a potential ally into a formidable foe. After Thranduil's betrayal, Thorin tried his best not to hate all elves. He had reserved all his hatred for just one elf until today.

Nothing could justify what was done to the Hobbit by those elves. Even if he finally got his revenge on Thranduil, Thorin would never have thought to destroy his home, build that pointy-eared, goblin lover's tomb over it and lock him inside. Actually, that idea did have some merit in Thranduil's case. The elf did leave the dwarves to die in their own home as a monster killed the survivors.

With regards to the Hobbit, Bilbo Baggins did not strike the King as an evil sort. He had intelligent eyes and was polite, almost to a fault. And yet, there were shadows in those eyes, too. Shadows that Thorin saw in his own reflection. Something terrible had happened to the little Burglar. It was with some surprise that Thorin realized he cared to find out the whole story. Dwarves were curious by nature and Mr. Baggins was an enigma.

A noise behind him startled Thorin out of his musings. He turned quickly, weapon in hand and ready for a fight. It was as if Thorin's thoughts had actually summoned the Hobbit for there he stood with his eyes lowered to the ground and holding his hands up in surrender.

"Do not sneak up on a dwarf! I could have killed you." Thorin growled. The King forced himself to relax from the sudden adrenaline rush. All dwarves had the ability to go from relaxed to battle ready in an instant. The reverse was not the case.

"Sorry, I couldn't sleep. I keep thinking this is a dream and I am still trapped in Bag End. May I sit with you for a moment?" the Hobbit asked timidly. Thorin noticed that he was still staring at the ground. It made him uncomfortable to think the Halfling was now afraid of him.

Thorin made room for the him on the log and watched the Hobbit sit down. He would not show it, but he was somewhat surprised and embarrassed to have been caught unaware. _Perhaps he really is a Burglar,_ Thorin thought. Glancing at the Hobbit next to him, he noticed something strange.

"Is something wrong with your eyes? They are glowing"

"Hobbits have a form of night vision. It is only really noticeable when we are not facing a light source." the Hobbit replied. Thorin knew nothing of Hobbits so it was quite likely true, but something about the answer did not feel right.

It was the voice, Thorin decided. For some reason, Mr. Bilbo's voice was deeper than last night at Bag End. He must have a sore throat from crying earlier. Of course, this was the first night outside of Bag End since being entombed for years. The world must have changed quite drastically since then.

Turning to face the Hobbit, Thorin asked "Can all Hobbits see in the dark, or just burglars?"

To his surprise, the Hobbit began to chuckle. "You could say it is a burglar thing. It has served me well in the past."

"I can imagine so." the King replied wryly. In the distance, some Orcs were screaming. Miles away, another group of Orcs responded to the call. Years spent among the Wargs had caused the Orcs to adapt similar mannerisms. This form of communication was only one such example.

Thorin thought back to earlier in the evening. His foolish nephews had been teasing the Hobbit about the Orcs' calls and attacks. He had made sure his nephews were aware that Orcs were not a laughing matter. Memories of the White Orc still haunted his thoughts. Balin's story of his past deeds in battle had been heart-wrenching to hear. But it was all worth it to see the growing respect in the eyes of the company when they learned of his painful past.

"Will the Shire be able to defend itself should the Orcs attack?" Thorin asked. The Shire was filled with tasty morsels to those foul beasts. He dreaded to see what would happen if the Orcs found them.

"Hobbits excel at making themselves unnoticed. It is how we have survived for so long. Years ago, there was a blizzard in the Shire. We don't usually get snow at all but that year made up for it. Wolves came down into our lands. Not a single Hobbit was harmed because we did not leave our homes. The wolves could not sense us and soon moved on to find food elsewhere."

"Orcs are not as easy to fool. They have a relentless thirst for blood and suffering. We will move out at daylight to stay ahead of them."

"I did not get a chance to say this before but thank you for my freedom. It is good not to be caged anymore. Good night." Bilbo whispered as he returned to his bedroll.

Thorin saw Gandalf was the only one still awake. He was smoking his pipe in the back of the cave. The wizard was starring intently at the Hobbit for the rest of the evening as if he were waiting for something to happen.


	5. Gypsum

Disclaimer: The first verse of Tom's song, and the entirety of Tolkien works, do not belong to me but to the genius we all know and love.

Onwards!

* * *

 

"I wish we could make a fire" Elrohir whispered to his brother, watching his breath coming out as a dense fog. He rubbed his hands together quickly, trying in vain to stay warm. The nights in the Lone Lands were growing cold with the approaching winter. Gathering his cloak around him for added warmth, he huddled closer to Elladan. Trees were scarce in the plains, but they had been lucky to find a few trees that provided adequate shelter for the night.

"Try to get some sleep. I'll keep watch. The cold will wake you soon enough." Elladan whispered back, while flexing his legs to keep the blood flowing. Without a fire, it was going to be a long and uncomfortable night. Any amount of sleep would be considered a blessing.

Though the Western patrols had reported Orcs were on the move, the elves of Imladris had not realized the extent. According to the sound of the Orc calls, there were 3 major patrols in this area alone. Usually when a small company of elves knew Orcs were nearby, they would make it a priority to avoid them. They did not have that luxury tonight, however.

Father had given them the last known location for Tom Bombadil which was now overrun with these foul beasts. Orcs were predators of every race in Middle Earth, especially since they traveled and hunted with Wargs.

The two brothers did not have many options for survival when camping tonight. A fire would attract the predators to their location like a moth to flame. While climbing a tree might prevent the patrols from stumbling upon them, the wind would carry their scent over a larger area. It was too dangerous to try and continue traveling after sunset as they could barely see where they were going. Finding warg manure nearby had been a strange but welcome gift. Surrounding their small camp with it would mask their scent, to some extent, from the Wargs. Despite the necessity, Elrohir could not wait to be away from the awful stench.

Finally, he felt himself starting to drift asleep. His mind wandered to the curious creature of Tom Bombadil. Ever since they were children, they had heard stories about Tom. He was older and more powerful than Grandmother, yet retained an almost child-like innocence as well. The elves, nevertheless, questioned how moral or sane he actually was. There was no rhyme or reason to his movements and motivations, but also no outward sign of aggression unless provoked.

All hope was now resting on Tom to save their sister. His Father had been heartbroken and lost ever since Arwen had been injured. Every healing spell they had tried had not only failed to treat Arwen, but had actually made her worse. She lost consciousness with their second attempt and had not woken since. It was terrifying to see their Father looking so helpless. The proud and noble Lord Elrond was supposed to always know the right thing to do. He was as steady and reliable as the river. Father should never be helpless!

Elrohir startled awake as an Orc's call shattered the silence of the night. It was close to their location; and it was not alone. Elladan quickly peered through the underbrush that was hiding them to see several Wargs with their Orc riders. Another Orc call from the opposite direction had both brothers turning rapidly. Another patrol was coming down the hill to join the first group. The Orcs would be upon their location in a few minutes. There was no escape and no possible defense against so many.

He felt his brother shudder and prepare for battle. Neither were afraid of dying. As warriors, they had accepted the fact that death could find them without notice. But this would not be a pleasant end. Elrohir glanced at his brother. All of the feelings of sadness, fear, and resignation were reflected there. This was goodbye.

A horse ran directly between the two patrols, stopping a few feet short of the elves' small camp. The rider on the horse was not an elf, man, dwarf, or Hobbit. He was slightly taller than a Hobbit but was definitely not one of the Halflings.

The Orcs appeared to be equally surprised by the appearance of this strange being. Their Warg brethren backed away from him and began whimpering in fear at the sound of his voice:

" _Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,  
_ _Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow._  
 _None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:_  
 _His songs are the stronger songs, and his feet are faster_.

_Flee, mangy beasts before the mighty Fatty Lumpkin!_   
_Saving the blood flowing, they surely would have drunken._   
_Old Tom is here, to save the precious flower,_   
_Burning bright under the sun and wilting in the tower._

_We must not dilly and we cannot dally!_   
_The unblinking eye is keeping tally!_   
_Her roots were poisoned not by the sun,_   
_Only with the darkest cloud can the fight soon be won!"_

Elrohir could only blink as the patrols fled the area. The Wargs were literally running over each other in an ungainly stampede. Their Orcs riders were cursing and flailing in a desperate attempt to hang on. His brother nudged him with his elbow but Elrohir could not look away as their rescuer approached. He whispered,

"I have never seen the Orcs retreat. I did not think it possible"

"I think he found us, dear Brother." said Elladan, smiling at Tom Bombadil.

* * *

 

"Here, Mr. Bilbo. This is for you." Balin was holding a piece of parchment in his outstretched hand. Before reading it, Bilbo glanced at each of the company who were gathered nervously around him.

The company had been acting a bit strange, well stranger, this morning. Balin had been speaking to each dwarf in turn and making them write down something as they dismantled the camp. Even Gandalf had been approached for his input.

Looking down, Bilbo gasped. "What is …this?" He could not comprehend what exactly the dwarves were doing or the reason for it.

"Our king has declared you one of us. As a new dwarf, there is a great deal you will need to know before we reach home." Balin explained, puffing his chest with pride. The other dwarves were nodding. Bofur was grinning broadly at the shocked expression of the Hobbit.

"Home?" Bilbo said faintly. He sat down before he fell. Fili and Kili sat down on either side of him, kindness reflected in their eyes. Thorin stood behind him with both of his hands resting on the Hobbit's shoulders. All Bilbo could do was stare down at the words before him:

_Welcome, Burglar of Erebor!_

_As a new dwarfling, it is this company's honor and privilege to assist you in preparing for your new home!_

_Dwalin- Endurance and weapon training_   
_Balin- History of the Mightiest of Middle Earth_   
_Nori- Who to know and not know (or acknowledge knowing)_   
_Dori- Business and diplomacy_   
_Ori- Culture and philosophy_   
_Gandalf- dream interpretation_   
_Gloin- Family dynamics_   
_Oin- Medicine and herbs_   
_Bofur- Master Craftsman and trades_   
_Bombur- Cooking and home life_   
_Bifur- Language and meditation_   
_Kili- Traditions (and any matters important to children)_   
_Fili- Etiquette (and how best to avoid a glaring King)_   
_Thorin- Politics and proper behavior for a dwarf in Erebor_

"And any matters important to children!? I did not write that!" Kili roared, pointing at the part that was clearly _not_ his handwriting.

Fili smirked, "'Traditions' did not really explain your expertise. I thought I should elaborate."

Kili made to punch his brother but could not follow through with it because the Hobbit was still sitting between them. "Your first lesson will begin now. How a dwarf settles an argument."

Thorin swiftly pulled the Hobbit up and away from his nephews before Bilbo got caught in the crossfire. As the rest of the company cheered the fighting and made bets on who would win, Thorin leaned down so that he was eye level with Bilbo.

"We wished to prepare you for life in your new home. It is, of course, your choice about staying in Erebor. Whatever you choose, just know that we will consider you as one of us" the King Under the Mountain said. He was nervously waiting for the Hobbit's answer.

"Are you sure? There is a great deal about me that you do not know…" Bilbo was now looking quite nervous himself.

Thorin considered this carefully and then sighed. "Everyone in this company has not been spared pain or trouble in their lives. Dwarves are a most resilient yet secretive people. We do not make this offer lightly. Everything that we teach you must not be repeated to outsiders."

"I…I" Bilbo stuttered. These dwarves, whom he had known only for a few days, were opening their home to him as if he were family! He should be happy but instead felt terrified. What would the dwarves do when they finally learned the truth? The Other had completely ruined Bilbo's life. His very existence had turned the elves from friends into enemies. These dwarves would not hesitate if they deemed Bilbo a threat, of that he was quite certain.

He was also worried about what The Other had planned for the company and even the journey itself. The contract was only for reclaiming Erebor. Bilbo suspected The Other had an ulterior motive for signing the contract. He only hoped the price would not be too high or unreasonable.

The wizard appeared beside them. He was counting a small bag of coin that he had just won for correctly guessing that Kili would win. "I would accept their offer, my friend. A more fierce and loyal friend you will never find then in these dwarves. Nightmares will not frighten such warriors"

"You're right, I would be a fool to refuse. I accept, but promise me…" Bilbo stopped and looked down at the ground. How could he ask forgiveness for something that was beyond his control? There was no knowing nor stopping The Other.

A hand gently cupped his chin and tilted it until he met Thorin's stunning blue eyes. "What is it?" The King waited patiently as Bilbo tried to form an answer.

"If you change your mind and discover that I am not worth the effort…" Bilbo was too close to tears to continue. The thought of losing these dwarves after all the loses he had already endured would break him. He knew it.

"I am not in the habit of changing my mind! Now, Bombur will continue your training, preparing a Dwarven breakfast. His mother was the royal chef and taught him everything he knows. Why do you think he loves food so much?" the King said with a smile of reassurance. Bilbo had never seen him smile before. The lines of worry and pain that had been etched into the dwarven face from years of strife disappeared if only for a moment. Bilbo felt dazed and stood staring at the King.

Thorin gently turned the Hobbit towards the fire where Bombur was preparing food. Despite all of his doubts, the King's words brought a measure of comfort. He decided to enjoy the kindness of this company (friends?) and not worry about the future. The Old Took had always said that worry was the thief of joy. Perhaps if he was a good "dwarf", he would get to see that smile again.

* * *

 

Thorin and Gandalf sat quietly, watching as Bilbo helped prepare the eggs for breakfast. Bombur was teaching the Hobbit how his mother would flip the eggs into the air with a spatula and catch them again, without breaking the yolk. Poor Bilbo was trying and failing to see the trick to such an impossible feat until Bombur whispered to him. The secret seemed to work as Bilbo began flipping the eggs too. After cheering for their newest dwarfling, the rest of the dwarves focused on getting ready for the day's travel.

"Was he always so unsure of himself?" Thorin asked, breaking the silence.

The wizard sighed. He looked tired, very tired. "Our friend carries a heavy burden. You have the potential to heal what has been broken for years. It will not be easy, but the reward is beyond measure."

* * *

 

Robert McCoy had lived in this farmhouse his entire life. It had been in the family for generations. The land produced the finest pipeweed that Men could make- the only true competition to the Hobbit-grown pipeweed. Since pipeweed was the Shire's only trade with humans, the Hobbit farmers were upset with their new competitor.

Which was why the sight of the burned house filled Gandalf with dread. The family would never move or relinquish this land. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Charred human remains were scattered in a corner of the house- a sad testament to the unfortunate end of the family. The destruction was recent, probably within the last few days.

"We will camp here for the night. This building will provide adequate shelter should it start to rain." Thorin ordered. The rest of the company dispersed quickly to complete their assigned tasks in setting up camp. They all stopped suddenly at Gandalf's outburst.

"NO! We must not stay here! I was by this way a month ago. I knew the family that lived here. Something did this and might still be nearby. We must leave this place, quickly." Gandalf said fiercely. Dwarves were not known for trusting human intuition, but he had to try and make the King see reason.

Thorin, along with several of the other dwarves, marched into the ruins of the farmhouse and examined the area for any signs of an attack. It was clear that a fire had occurred recently. A thick coating of smoke covered the inside walls which resembled a crumbling, gravity-defying ash. The outside of the house was still structurally sound enough to hold up the roof. After determining the building was not going to collapse, the King knelt down to examine the human remains carefully. The bodies were laying side by each in what was left of a bed.

Brushing ash from his hands, the King replied, "I am sorry for the death of your friends. We will give them a proper burial. However, there is no evidence of violence here. The fire must have started when they were asleep." He noticed the look on Gandalf's face. The wizard was not convinced, not at all.

"Fili! Kili! Scout the area and report back anything that looks suspicious. Unless you can prove that this house was attacked, Gandalf…" Thorin trailed off, glancing at the wizard expectantly.

Gandalf watched Fili and Kili leave to scout the perimeter. He had a feeling that they would not find anything. All of the facts were going in one direction and all of his intuition was going the other way. The wizard tried a different tactic. "I am asking you to trust me that something is wrong here. Whatever did this could return. You don't want the company to be caught unaware like this." He pointed at the bodies.

The King furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance. He was not accustomed to _anyone_ questioning his decisions. "Your concern has been noted. I will have 2 groups keep watch while we are here. Unfortunately, it will rain soon. This building will provide the necessary shelter. We are staying."

"This is a mistake! I can sense with every fiber of my being that it is unsafe here. There is still enough daylight to find another shelter. We must not stay." Gandalf said. He knew that he was right, but how to get this fact into the thick skull of a dwarf who would not know magic if it braided his beard for him?

Dwarves were not known for patience. They excel at stubbornness, and the King Under the Mountain was no exception.

"Bring me proof! Show me the guilty party here, and I will order the company to move."

Gandalf swiftly turned on his heel and marched out of the ruined home before he did something he would most likely regret, but would feel entirely justified.

Bilbo immediately blocked his path. "Where are you going?"

The wizard gently moved Bilbo from in front of him, grumbling to him, "I am tired of running into the Dwarven wall of stubbornness for today. If you want to make camp here, then I will have to search out the culprit myself, for my own piece of mind."

The Hobbit was undeterred and clutched at the sleeve of his robe. Bilbo tried to reason with him, "It is not safe to go out on your own. What if those who hurt your friends were to find you too? There is strength in numbers."

The wizard considered his friend for a moment. The Hobbit did not look tired at all. While Gandalf knew, in theory, that The Other was asleep when Bilbo was awake, he did not realize the opposite was also true until last night. He had watched in fascination how The Other had opened Bilbo's eyes only a few minutes after the Hobbit had fallen asleep. Gandalf had kept watch the entire night, but The Other spent the evening deep in thought after speaking with the King.

Gandalf had to concede that he was overtired today as he had not slept since they had left Bag End. His patience was running thin. If The Other was awake every night, then how or when did Bilbo's body find rest? If this happened every time Bilbo fell asleep, then this was going to be a problem. Gandalf knew he could not stay awake the entire journey!

"Don't worry, I will be fine. When I get back, we need to talk about The Other." Gandalf whispered before walking into the tree line around the ruined farm.

* * *

 

"Do you think Gandalf was right? He certainly seemed convinced that something had started the fire which killed his friends." Kili whispered to his brother.

Fili and Kili had been sent to watch the horses for first watch. The sun had set shortly after Gandalf had left camp. Ironically, it was only after the wizard had left that the company realized that no one knew the proper way to bury humans. It would not do to offend a wizard by giving his deceased friends a dwarven burial. Balin, ever the voice of reason, decided the company should wait for the wizard to return and instruct them on the procedure. This, unfortunately, meant the company would have to camp outside the ruin of the house because the burnt bodies were a bit too ripe. Kili wondered if Gandalf had not won the argument after all.

What concerned him most was the way his Uncle had ignored the Wizard's warning. He knew that wizards could sense things that most people could not. Having one in the company was supposed to be useful. How useful was Gandalf in the future if Uncle continued to ignore his input? Kili did not blame Gandalf for storming off, though he would never say it out loud. His Uncle had a way of sneaking up on Kili when he least expected it.

"I am hoping that Uncle was right. If someone did harm those humans, then they could come back. Simply having guards posted on the horses and camp is the very least Uncle could do, if Gandalf is correct." Fili whispered back.

The answer did not reassure Kili. With the foreboding storm clouds above them blocking the moonlight, he could barely see 3 feet in front of him. Paranoia was not something Kili had ever felt before tonight. It was almost as if something were watching them.

His brother tapped his leg suddenly. Kili immediately notched an arrow while looking to see what had startled him. To their left, a group of birds in the trees took flight. The horses started to stomp the ground; their ears were back and eyes wide with fright. A strange wheezing noise filled the air. The ground shook every few seconds as something very large was moving through the trees, heading straight towards them.

Kili closed his eyes. During his training with a bow, the most difficult lesson had been to stop depending on his sight to aim and fire. It had seemed impossible, at the time, to learn how to hear his target approach and fire with his eyes closed. Dwalin would blindfold him and hang a branch dangling by a rope from a tree. The older dwarf would then push the branch in any direction and order Kili to fire. Dwalin was standing with a shield at the ready should Kili's shot miss its mark, which it often did. Eventually though, Kili learned how to listen and hit the target without fail. This training would be useful now.

Unable to see his target approach, Kili focused on the sounds of the enemy: breathing, footfalls, and the sounds of trees being snapped and broken by its approach. He shot an arrow at where he thought the creature was located. A smile of triumph crossed his face at the grunt of pain from the enemy. The smile disappeared as a large, grey hand sent him flying into a tree.

Pain exploded from his head and down his entire left side. He hit the tree so hard that the tree snapped and fell to the ground. Kili fought the darkness that was threatening to overcome him. He could not afford to give up while his brother was in danger. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, though.

Kili could only watch as Fili stabbed the hand with both daggers. He fell unconscious as a second hand lifted his brother off the ground.


	6. Schist

Disclaimer: I do not get paid to write any fanfiction though it would be nice. Tolkien's work is not mine, but the plot twists that is this story is my own.

Enjoy!

* * *

 

Years ago, the wizard, Radagast, had attended a meeting of the Council at the request of Gandalf. It was the last time he had been to the beautiful and enchanting Imladris. As much as he loved this place, Radagast the Brown thought it was far too noisy.

"Radagast! Radagast! Over here, remember me. I was just a sapling when we last met and now Lord Elrond himself has read whole novels in my shade." the large tree in the garden yelled to him, waving its branches in the traditional sign of greeting. Radagast stopped and laid a hand on the tree. The entire bark turned a deep, glowing, brown color for an instant. The leaves swayed as the tree giggled.

A sudden chirping from under his hat startled them both. Promptly, the wizard lifted his cap so the bird could fly into the tree. The bird's nest, and the egg inside, would be safe under his cap, Radagast would make sure of it. The trust that his friends had in him always brought a sense of confidence and pride.

Elves, bless those old souls, treated the land very well and had for generations. The land, itself, told him so. Every rock, tree, and flower spoke to him. With some shock, Radagast saw that the only exception were the flowers and trees directly below the West Tower. From the base of the tower almost to the river itself, the land was dying. Radagast shivered.

"What happened there?" he asked as his sled of rabbits crossed the bridge across the River Bruinen.

The deep voice of the river answered, "There is bad water in the Elf building. It is now in the air. Flowers are always the first to die when the water goes bad. The elves did not cause it, but do nothing to stop it either. I fear what will happen when the poison reaches me."

Alarmed, Radagast backed his sled to the safe side of the river. It was worse than he feared, then. Something had happened here and was continuing before his very eyes.

Several days ago, an eagle from Lady Galadriel had visited his home in Rhosgobel. Instead of a note from the elf, the bird delivered the message personally. The poor dear was in a panic, begging for his help to travel to Imladris. Before he could ask what was wrong, the regal bird flew off to find the other wizards. It was all most mysterious.

"Something about this makes my nose twitch." he muttered to himself. There was a gasp from behind him. Turning, Radagast noticed a young elven couple that had crossed the bridge and was staring at him in confusion.

"Sorry, but who are you talking to?" one asked timidly. He took a moment to consider telling them the truth but decided against it. Elves were generally tolerant but the young tended to become paranoid with the knowledge that every living thing was watching them. Constantly. "Lost in thought, I'm afraid. Would you be kind enough to tell me where I could find Lord Elrond?"

Inside the Last Homely Home, Radagast was escorted by the couple to the antechamber of Lady Arwen. The Elf Lord did not look well. He was slouched in the chair by the door with his head in his hands. The immaculate clothes were rumpled and dirty, as if the elf had not moved for days. His hair was greasy and surrounded his face as if it were a dark curtain.

Radagast quickly knelt by his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. A look of shock crossed Elrond's face. The elf grasped Radagast's shoulders in support and greeting.

"Master Radagast! I am so glad you are here. My daughter was injured a few days ago. We tried to heal her, but she had an adverse effect to any magic that touches her. Sarumon is examining her now." the Elf Lord spoke, his voice was rough with emotion.

"How was she injured? Is it related to what is killing the land?" the wizard asked. These were deep waters indeed. He hoped that it was a coincidence that Arwen had been injured and the land was dying. What he hoped and what he expected were often two very different things, however.

"The land? What do you mean?" Lord Elrond asked in confusion. He stood, but fell back into the chair almost immediately. He had not moved from the chair since Arwen lost consciousness and his legs protested the sudden movement in the strongest possible terms.

Radagast steadied him before answering, "The land outside of the West Tower is dying. Death is spreading through the air and water. The river will be next if it is not stopped."

"Do not listen to this mushroom-chomping buffoon, my Lord. He is so far gone that the birds use what remains of his mind as fodder for their nest." a deep voice whispered cruelly.

Elrond did not miss Radagast's flinch before the Wizard turned around with an unnaturally false smile on his face.

"Lord Saruman, it is good to see you. Do you know what is happening here?" Radagast asked in the nicest possible voice he could. The imposing figure of Saruman the White stood in the doorway to Lady Arwen's room.

Saruman had never liked him and the reverse was certainly true. He may indeed be a powerful wizard and the head of the White Council, but all of Radagast's intuition told him that Saruman was an evil, vindictive man. The rumors among the trees of his forest who spoke to those near Saruman's home in Isengard had been of some concern to Radagast for awhile now.

"Why are you here? I certainly would not call for you." Saruman replied. Radagast felt a twinge deep in his bones. Before answering, Radagast attempted to use his magic to see past Saruman and into Arwen's room without success. Something was wrong within that room, of that he was certain.

"I sent for him. Radagast the Brown is my honored guest. His swift answer to my summons does him credit. His insight is a gift that is unwise to ignore." a melodious female voice said.

Radagast turned and bowed while placing a hand on his hat to keep it atop his head. The beautiful and enchanting Lady Galadriel was ever the voice of reason. She had never judged him by his appearance as Saruman had. What he loved most about her was her ability to strike with words while maintaining grace and poise. He had always thought of her as a white rose with the sharpest of thorns.

"My Lady has wisdom which is eclipsed only by her beauty. After examining your Granddaughter, I have started to brew the potion that will treat her. It is fortuitous that you are here, Radagast, as you can help collect the necessary ingredients for it. You still have the fastest means of travel in all of Middle Earth with those… rodents, don't you?" Saruman asked the question, mixing the query with an abundance of insults.

"They are Rhosgobel hares…" Radagast began. He could feel his magic start to bristle with the continued assault on his character. He did not travel here to play fetch! He gathered his magic to him, fully intending to turn each strand of Saruman's hair into worms when Elrond spoke.

"This is excellent news, Lord Saruman! I, too, will go collect the remaining ingredients so that the potion will be ready sooner." Elrond interrupted. For the first time since his arrival, Radagast saw life and hope return to the ancient Elf's face. His friend was looking more like himself and that was a sight too good to ruin with petty bickering.

It was only as he was leaving the Hidden Valley on his sled that Radagast had an epiphany, connecting the "bad water" the river mentioned to the potion Saruman was brewing. He was about to turn around and go back when a chirp from under his hat startled him.

_Was the egg hatching already?_ Radagast thought, his body shivering with excitement for the new addition to the world under his hat. All thoughts of the potion left his mind as he spoke to the new father about baby bird names.

* * *

 

His brother, Gloin, always said that Oin's view of trouble was disturbingly true. For instance, if the day was good then the night would be bad, or vice versa. The worst thing in the world was a good day _and_ night because that meant the trouble destined to occur would be banked for another day. Several good days and nights in a row meant a world of trouble was on the way. Hopefully, today was just a good day and not a good night.

After hearing Balin speak last night of the living hero that was their King, the company was in good spirits this morning with a renewed respect for their leader and his cause. A good morning indeed. In fact, it was the best day Oin had experienced on the journey thus far.

Over the years, Oin had resigned himself to missing things. Entire conversations were held just beyond his range of hearing. Whenever someone turned to ask his opinion on the matter, most were aggravated to learn he had no idea what they were discussing.

When Gloin informed him of King Thorin's quest, Oin had been torn. On the one hand, his Stonespeaker skills would be invaluable to the company. But on the other hand, his hearing would be a liability. Any threat could sneak up on him, and he would be completely defenseless. It was only with Gloin's assurance that Oin agreed to go. True to his word, Gloin was by his side, always.

He could still remember the first night in camp before the company reached the Shire. Thorin had announced that he wished to go over the details of the contract with everyone before all of the dwarves signed. Oin resigned himself to waiting until after the King had finished speaking to read it. Otherwise, the dwarf knew that he would lose track of the conversation if he was reading the paper at the same time.

Surprisingly, part 5B, section 22 was entitled "How to speak when traveling in this company". It listed several things that Gloin did everyday when interacting with his brother. When speaking with Oin, his brother tried to stay on his right side where his good ear could still hear. Separating words or using annunciation so that Oin could read lips when he could not hear clearly. Gloin would always tap his arm to get his attention before speaking so that Oin would know to focus. There were several other things listed in the contract that Gloin did everyday to make sure that Oin did not get lost and confused.

Thorin stopped speaking for a moment to brush the dirt from his cloak when he saw Oin glance down at the contract in amazement. Not once was Oin's name mentioned and yet the dwarf knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was for his benefit. At the very least, it spared Oin from losing face and speaking about the shame and loneliness that his hearing loss caused on a daily basis.

He glanced sharply at Gloin, who was smiling proudly and nodding to Balin. Turning towards the older dwarf, Oin saw him wink and then Balin nodded to Thorin. Once the King saw that he had Oin's attention again, he went over the next part of the contract.

It never occurred to him that the Hobbit had not been present for the reading of the contract. Ever since the first night in Bag End, he often missed what the Hobbit was saying because his voice was too high-pitched. Oin could only hear a small range of sounds, even when using his ear-set. He was growing tired of asking the nearest dwarf to repeat everything just so he could keep track of what was going on whenever the Hobbit spoke. His struggles to understand the Hobbit, especially when the Halfling was not facing him as he spoke, was frustrating. It made the dwarf very sad that he would miss everything to do with the newest dwarfling, or so he thought.

Oin was riding his pony in the company line between Bifur and Gloin when Bilbo's pony appeared next to him. The Hobbit in question tapped his arm to get his attention, as he must have seen Gloin do when he wanted to talk.

_Observant little dwarfling_ , Oin thought to himself. He quickly turned his ear-set towards the Hobbit.

"Can I ask you a question, Mr. Oin?" Bilbo asked.

"Certainly, Master Baggins. At your service." Oin replied cheerfully. He valued a dwarfling with a curious mind that was not hell-bent on mischief, like some dwarflings he knew.

"I have been learning about the different beads that dwarves use in their hair and beards. You have one on your chin that has what appears to be a Kingsfoil design. Ori recommended I ask you directly about it."

The dwarf motioned to Bilbo to let the other dwarves pass them. He wanted to put as much space between himself and Gandalf who was leading the company through the dense forest. While the Wizard had proven trustworthy, he was not a dwarf or a dwarf in training.

Once they were at the back of the company line, Oin considered how best to answer the question. He often found himself fingering that bead on his beard when he was deep in thought. It was his most prized possession as only a few dwarves in all of history had ever worn one.

The bead was engraved with athelas, or kingsfoil, as it was referred to in the common tongue. This healing herb was the base for almost ever healing poultice and potion. A dwarf wearing such a bead was considered the rarest of gems for they were part of the noble profession of healers. Many dwarves chose to be warriors, blacksmiths, or craftsman, but healers were born healers.

The secret of Dwarven healing, as Oin had spent the rest of the day explaining to Mr. Bilbo, was a secret. Perhaps the biggest secret that Dwarven society kept from everyone: Dwarven healers used Magic. It was not to be confused with the magic of other races, however. The magic of Elves and Wizards came from inside them and was directed at a target. There was no magic residing inside any dwarf. The magic came from Middle Earth itself and was directed at a target by the healers, or Stonespeakers.

Middle Earth was full of life and power. All of that untapped power (especially since a select few dwarves were the only ones with access) was intoxicating. Stonespeakers required years of training before they could have the honor of wearing this bead.

"Do you think I could learn how to be a Stonespeaker, Mr. Oin?" asked Bilbo. During the entire conversation, Oin had watched the Hobbit's eyes growing wider with awe and respect. It was only natural the lad wanted to learn.

"We use the term "healer" when we are near non-dwarves, lad. The title of 'Stonespeaker' is one of our most secret of words. As for you learning to be one, you will have to advance in your meditations with Bifur before I will know if it is possible." Oin said, scratching his chin in thought. He did not know anything about Hobbits, though he had never heard of one using magic.

Before discussing herbs that could be used to heal, Oin thought it best to warn the Hobbit. "Always treat the Stone with respect, lad. Healers are especially vulnerable to it's wrath if we abuse our powers."

Oin was delighted to learn that Bilbo's Mother had taught him all about herbs. Before leaving Bag End, Bilbo had collected an assortment of healing herbs. The sight of them had Oin almost giddy. Finally, a dwarf with the good sense to prepare for trouble!

* * *

 

"We will be tired tomorrow keeping 2 rotations of watch tonight." Dwalin muttered to Thorin quietly, so as to not be overheard by the others.

If anyone else had questioned his judgment, Thorin would have taken it as a challenge to his authority. He had learned over the centuries that Dwalin and Balin could see a different perspective than a King. Their point of view was invaluable to a dwarf who held the problems of all his people close to his heart. He never wanted to cause harm to them by being ignorant of the consequences.

"There is no help for it. If something has riled the Wizard up so much that he openly challenged Thorin's decision, then it is serious." Balin said. Thorin was about to respond when a shout from the trees startled them.

"To Arms! Uncle!" Kili crashed through the tree line and made a beeline for Thorin. He had blood dripping from a wound on his forehead and was limping, but it was the look on his face that was most troubling. The poor dwarf looked terrified.

Thorin immediately met him as Kili collapsed in his arms, gasping for breath. "What is it? What has happened? Where is your Brother?" The King demanded, not waiting for an answer.

"Trolls…got Fili….have to get him back!" Kili struggled to focus on his Uncle's face. They had to find Fili; and he had to be unharmed. The alternative was unimaginable.

The King's face darkened with worry and rage. Family was all that Thorin had in this world. No one hurt his family and lived. "Oin, Gloin. Stay here with Kili. The rest of us will get Fili back. Let's go!"

"I'm going with you. We have to save him!". The dwarf prince would go whether the King approved or not, of this Thorin was quite certain.

Thorin nodded at Oin and watched as the older dwarf touched Kili's forehead. The skin around the wound filled in like liquid metal being poured into a mold and filling it. A slight scar which appeared to be almost completely healed replaced the gaping wound from a moment ago. Thorin swiftly clapped a hand on Oin's shoulder in thanks before ordering everyone to move out.

* * *

 

The Old Took had left Bilbo a vast library, among other things, when he died. During his incarceration, the Hobbit had read everything, some books were very well-thumbed. Books about trolls often described them as being large and cumbersome beasts. One writer had the audacity to compare them to ticks, a tiny bug-like creature that hunted for blood and would feast until they were too large to move.

_These are nothing like ticks_ , Bilbo thought to himself looking at the three massive, ugly trolls sitting around the campfire. Fili was lying unconscious at their feet.

"We should put him in the stew. He would taste lovely in the stew", one troll said to his friends before grabbing a filthy handkerchief from his belt and blowing his nose.

"You don't boil a dwarf, idiot. We need to roast him over the fire with a thyme and rosemary rub." the second troll said, while smacking the first troll on the back of the head.

"Oh, now that sounds lovely too!" the first troll instantly agreed as the third troll rolled his eyes.

Bilbo felt a shaking hand upon his shoulder. Kili nodded over to Thorin who was in the middle of silently gesturing orders to the company. The King pointed at Oin, Gloin, and Bilbo. He then pointed at Fili and swiftly pointed back towards the campsite. All three nodded as the message was clear: _Get Fili out of here and back to camp._

Feeling the trembling in the dwarf next to him, Bilbo put a hand on Kili's arm and squeezed. The poor dwarfling was lost without his brother. The Hobbit did not know what would happen if Fili were seriously injured, but he knew that Kili would follow his brother wherever Fili would lead him.

"There is nothing wrong with raw dwarf, you know." the third troll said, reaching to pick-up Fili.

Kili nodded to the Hobbit before joining Dwalin in screaming "Baruk Khazâd"

Oin and Bilbo moved quickly to Fili's side as Gloin protected them. Fili was breathing erratically and looked very pale. Bilbo helped Oin put the Dwarf Prince over his shoulder. All three raced out of the battle. They did not get far before an eerie silence replaced the sounds of battle.

" _Ori_ " Nori and Dori screamed in unison. Gloin and Bilbo stopped at the terrified screams as Oin continued to carry Fili towards camp.

"Drop your weapons or he loses a limb. Or two. Or three. Maybe we'll rip them all out! We wouldn't want the little sticks to get stuck in our teeth" the troll said. Bilbo could hardly catch his breath as he turned back. Gloin grabbed his arm in an unbreakable hold.

"No! We were ordered to go back to camp and that is what we have to do." Gloin whispered fiercely. He kept an eye on where his brother was headed, making sure that he and Fili were still safe.

The quiet of the night was replaced with the sounds of weapons being dropped on the ground. Gloin and Bilbo stood in silence, starring at each other. A test of wills was happening and Bilbo knew that he had to win. Deep down, Bilbo knew, Gloin hoped he would win. The torn expression on his face told the Hobbit as much.

"I have to go back. They won't see me. We only have to survive until daylight." Bilbo whispered. Gloin broke the starring contest to glance at the sky. Dawn was approaching, but not soon enough.

"The King will have my head if you are harmed, Burglar. I am rather attached to my head, thank you very much." Gloin said as he released Bilbo and gently shoved the Hobbit back towards the trolls.

Bilbo winked at him before disappearing with a soft hum.

* * *

 

Bombur's eyes were focused unwaveringly on his brother and cousin, Bofur and Bifur, respectively. They were among the dwarves being roasted alive by the trolls. Despite all of his struggling, he could not get free to save them. He hated being helpless. It was heartbreaking to see flames take more of his family.

The fire that was roasting them suddenly went out as if an invisible force snuffed it. For a moment, it looked like the dirt on the left side of the fire swallowed the flames whole. No one spoke as it happened so fast. The trolls stood frozen in shock. Without the firelight, Bombur noticed, for the first time, how the sun was finally rising in the sky to greet the day. There was enough light to see but none of it was touching the trolls, who were looking concerned. One of the trolls crouched down to relight the fire.

"Where is the flint?" the troll muttered. "I thought I put it right here when we stuffed dinner in the bags." His large hand was scratching at the dirt. His desperate search was aborted when the troll felt a stabbing pain across his palm.

The other trolls watched in confusion as the injured troll jumped about holding his hand. Before he turned completely, Bombur saw tiny needles sticking out of the palm, a dripping black liquid coated each point. Using his handkerchief, the troll wrapped his injured hand after yanking the needles out.

"Whatcha do now? Why is the fire not lit?" growled the troll nearest Bombur.

"We don't have time to wait for roast dwarf! Raw dwarf is just as good" A monstrous hand clamped onto Bombur's belly, holding him upside down. The pressure was excruciating as if the foul beast were trying to squeeze him to death.

Air was rushing out of his lungs and was not replaced. While black spots danced across his vision, Bombur struggled to find a memory that would give him courage and hope when he so desperately needed it .

One memory made him flinch, however. He tried to refocus on all the delicious food that he had ever tasted. Any thought was better than the last time he had seen Mother.

He had only been a babe when the terrible attack by Smaug occurred which killed thousands of brave and noble dwarves. The sight was so terrible that he buried his face into Bifur's shoulder as the older dwarf carried him; their family was running for their lives. The last words he had heard Mother say was for Bifur to hold onto him because he was so little that he could be trampled by the others. Shortly after, she fell behind and was not seen again. No one knew what had become of her but those last words stayed with Bombur. He vowed never to be little and helpless again.

After all of the food that he had eaten, it was morbidly ironic that his fate was to be eaten alive. As he hung upside-down from the monster's hand, he turned to stare at Bofur and Bifur's horrified faces. There was so much he wanted to say to each of them. Brave Bofur, who tried so hard to face the world with a smile and jokes. Everyone thought he was just a happy dwarf who loved to talk. No one else realized the soothing effect Bofur's voice had on Bifur. The poor injured dwarf would sometimes get anxious like he was stuck in a bad memory and try to fight. His brother knew how deeply shameful it was to Bifur when these flashbacks occurred. Some days, it was only the sound Bofur's voice that could ground him.

_Those two need each other. If one of us has to die, I'm glad it's me,_  Bombur thought.If an axe to the face could not kill Bifur, then a troll did not stand a chance. _May this filthy beast choke on me_.

Using the last of his strength, Bombur wriggled desperately trying to get free. There was simply no escaping this stupid troll. A strange breeze rustled his long beard for a moment. The troll holding him roared in surprise.

"Something pinched me bum!", the troll screamed.

"Did you try to sit on one of those spindly plants? It seems there is a lot of them round here" the uninjured troll said with a phlegmy laugh. This was perhaps the worst thing to say. Bombur was close enough to see the face of the hungry troll flush in rage. It dropped him and punched the laughing troll next to him, knocking it out.

Ignoring the painful landing and the return of air to his bruised lungs, Bombur reached into his pocket and grasped the handle of his cooking pan. The pan had been a gift. Bifur had made the cooking utensil and Bofur had engraved the family crest on the cooking surface. Using all his strength and girth, he attempted to smash the family crest into the thick skull of his would-be-murderer with great success.

Two down, one to go. The first troll, who was still clutching the handkerchief to his injured hand, was enraged at the fall of his friends.

"You're going to regret that, Dwarf" the remaining troll roared. Bombur clutched the handle of the frying pan so tightly that his fingers were turning pale.

"Free the others, quickly, Bombur!" the disembodied voice of Bilbo Baggins whispered.

The last troll gave a loud groan. His eyes rolled back into his head as his body began convulsing. He fell to the ground as his breathing stopped and a bubbling mucous escaped its mouth.. The handkerchief fell away in his struggles revealing a noxious ooze leaking out of the wounds on his hand.

A soft hum filled the air as the Hobbit appeared standing right next to Bombur. The Hobbit removed a handkerchief from his own hand, drenched in a foul-smelling toxin, and threw it at the most recently dead troll.

"Sorry about that. I used enough to fell a pony within seconds. The brute should have been out long ago." Bilbo replied. Bombur could only blink as the Halfling reached down near the fire to remove…

"Is that my spatula, Mr. Bilbo?" he could not help but asking.

"Is that our frying pan, Mr. Bombur? the bemused Hobbit responded back.

* * *

 

"Why are you wielding a spatula, Mr. Bilbo?" Kili asked, his voice was full of the same wonder that Thorin felt but was carefully hiding behind his suspicious glare.

"It seemed the weapon of choice for a grocer." the Hobbit said with a grin and wink at Thorin.

_Cheeky Halfling,_ Thorin thought with some amusement. He was glad to see some spirit in the Hobbit, finally.

As Bilbo cut Kili's bag, the Hobbit's eyes suddenly darkened with a strange black glow.

"Danger" the Hobbit whispered in a deep voice. A chill went down the King's spine. It was the same voice the Hobbit had used the night after leaving Bag End. Thorin could only watch as the Hobbit ran at Bombur.

"Bombur, look out!" Bilbo yelled in that deep voice. The large dwarf turned swiftly but it was too late. With surprising force, the Hobbit tackled Bombur, pushing him out of the way as a large troll hand grasped the Hobbit instead.

The troll, which had only been knocked out with a punch, smashed the small Hobbit into the ground. It was a terrible sound to hear the sickening crack of bones breaking. With a roar, the monster threw the Hobbit's body out of the campsite.

"Bilbo!" several dwarven voices yelled in unison.

Adrenaline coursed through Thorin's veins in an attempt to break out of the bag holding him. He tried to follow with his eyes where Bilbo had landed but a blinding blue light forced the king to look back at the troll. There was a strange blue dust where the troll had once been standing.

Gandalf ran out of the forest making a beeline for where Bilbo had fallen. Once all the dwarves were free, they hovered around the wizard. Thorin had expected to see a truly gruesome wound on the Hobbit's head. The only thing that the King could focus on, however, was the blood itself. Dwarven blood is red. It seemed Hobbits were very different.

"He's bleeding gold!" Balin whispered quietly from the King's left. The old dwarf had bent down to touch the golden liquid and confirm that it was indeed gold that was pouring out of the Hobbit's wound.


	7. Andalusite

Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien!

Enjoy!

* * *

 

The library of the Last Homely Home was renowned for being the most extensive and oldest in all of Middle Earth. Usually the sight of the three stories of shelves filled to the brim with knowledge would bring a sense of calm and tranquility to Lady Galadriel. For every question, the answer was here. She just had to read with both her eyes and her spirit. One or both was failing her now.

Sighing, she shoved the book aside to join the growing pile of useless books beside her. Normally, Galadriel would never treat a book so irreverently, but her emotions were chaotic lately. Ever since her magic had failed to heal Arwen, she could not find peace. She, like Elrond, would not rest until she found a cure.

Lady Galadriel was not used to failure. She knew very little was beyond her power. The spell used on the Hobbit home was simply to illuminate the house for a brief time. Sarumon had cast it to provide some warning in case The Other was ever free. It should have been impossible for this spell to have harmed anyone. For its victim to have been Arwen, it was inconceivable.

Of all the times for her magic and faith to fail her, it had to be when the one person she cared for the most needed her. Arwen was not just her Granddaughter, but also her protégée.

Galadriel knew there would be a time when Arwen would be alone in Middle Earth. The elf would need the knowledge of all the Old Ways if she was going to survive. People would need her to be strong and wise. All of the future depended on Arwen's complete recovery.

The Lady of Lorien considered her options. Twirling her beautiful, golden hair, the Lady searched her memory for a book or any resource that would help. For some reason, Saruman's assurance that the potion would help Arwen was in no way reassuring. The man might be powerful, but there was a darkness inside of him that always troubled her.

Her ring, one of the Rings of Power, caught her eye. Since Sauron was dead, the Ring would not be dangerous to use. The beautiful Nenya was made of mithril with a pure, white stone. It had been called the Ring of Water. She always found it fitting that the ring reminded her of the Mirror of Galadriel in Lorien. Though looking at it now, Galadriel realized the ring had changed without her notice. Strangely, the stone was no longer a pure white. A thin vein of darkness was winding around the stone. Alarmed, Galadriel extended her spirit to look at the Ring more closely. Something was wrong with the Ring of Water!

Walking with a calmness she did not feel, Lady Galadriel went to the basin in the corner of the library. Pouring river water into the basin, she took a phial from her pocket. It was no ordinary phial nor were the contents. Inside the Phial of Galadriel was water that had once been in the magical basin called the Mirror of Galadriel. Water scrying was a skill that had served her well for it allowed her to see visions from another place and time.

The moment the water from the river met the water from the Mirror of Galadriel, the surface turned black. There was no image at all. Peering closely, Galadriel could not see the bottom of the basin or anything at all. Furrowing her brow in confusion, The Lady extended her spirit to see if that would pierce the abyss.

At first glance, there was no change. But as she continued to watch, a lone figure appeared. It was a woman who was wearing a white dress. The face slowly came into focus. A shiver of dread overwhelmed Galadriel as she leaned closer till she was almost touching the water's surface. The person also seemed to move closer. It was her!

The mirror Lady Galadriel was much different than the original. Her eyes were glowing black. There were deep lines of black that followed where all of her veins should be. Each one of her teeth were sharpened to a point. Her beautiful golden hair was as white as snow. The image was wraith-like.

"Nazgul…." she whispered in horror.

Shaking, Galadriel brought both of her hands to her face in growing horror. The mirror image did the same, but the mirror smiled cruelly back at her.

Those disturbing, glowing, black eyes were as piercing as knives. There was no happiness or life; the look of death and malice was more than she could take. The mirror Galadriel charged at her suddenly. Falling back away from the mirror in fright, the water barely missed her as it exploded out of the basin.

Running in terror, Galadriel did not have a destination in mind. Her only thought was to flee.

"Air…I need air" She gasped, running out of the house. Heading West, Galadriel fell to her knees at the edge of the river. She was eternally grateful that no one had seen her in such a state. Her shoulders were trembling with fright as she sat by the shore. Leaning over to look at her reflection in the river's surface, her own beautiful face was staring back at her. The pale and frightened expression was one she has not seen in many years.

A shadow fell over her reflection. Turning swiftly, Lady Galadriel was face to face with the most curious creature. He was taller than a Hobbit, but was definitely not of dwarven descent. Wearing a bright blue jacket, the creature removed his large brimmed hat and bowed to her.

_"Tom Bombadil, at your service._   
_You have no reason to be nervous._   
_The River-daughter has heard her kin cry,_   
_My love has something for you to try"_

Searching the face before her, Lady Galadriel sensed no deception or judgment in this being. So this was Tom Bombadil, a name as well-known as her own. He was powerful in the Old Ways.

"Elen sila lumenn omentielvo, Tom Bombadil" Galadriel spoke a traditional elven greeting.

Nodding slightly, Tom sat beside her. Reaching into his coat pocket, he removed a plant seed.

_"Trust Old Tom and plant this tree,_   
_Between the West Tower and the sea._   
_Together, we shall set things right,_   
_The Flower will not perish in fright."_

Reaching out, Tom placed the seed into her hand. Gently, he closed her hand around the seed and kissed her ring, the Ring of Water. Lady Galadriel bowed her head in respect.

Opening her hand, Lady Galadriel felt hope for the first time in days. "Mallorn" she said with a smile.

Mallorn was a tree she knew very well as it was from Valinor. Closing her eyes, she could see it now: a tall beautiful tree with white bark and golden leaves. It would stand between the West Tower and the river. A gift chosen by Goldberry Bombadil would grow faster, stand taller, and be a symbol of the bond that was now formed between their families.

A gentle breeze ruffled her hair. Looking up, Galadriel realized she was alone. The only proof that Tom had been to Imladris tonight was the Mallorn seed in her hand and the hope in her heart.

* * *

 

Dori was a mother-hen, according to his brothers. He would never admit it, but he may have been a nervous wreck when Nori broke his arm as a young dwarfling. His brothers tended to protest but it was a sign of how close to death they had been that Ori did not protest this time. Perhaps that had more to do with being outnumbered for Nori was fussing just as much.

Ori had severe bruising on his arms and legs from when the trolls almost ripped his limbs off. It hurt the poor dwarf to move at all so both of his brothers felt entirely justified with making sure he was comfortable. Oin had placed a healing poultice on Ori's shoulders and thighs. The Stonespeaker was confident that the dwarf would make a full recovery. Looking around, Dori knew the company was very lucky because it could have been much worse.

Bombur's ribs required magic to heal. He had collapsed shortly after Bilbo had been injured, his chest struggling for each breath. Despite Gandalf immediately healing him, Bifur and Bofur insisted on carrying him back to camp, which was easier said than done. Dori knew they too were fussing over him in order to make him more comfortable.

Thorin and Kili sat together near the fire with Fili between them. The heir apparent was still unconscious. Oin had done all that he could and believed the dwarf would wake when he was ready to do so. Thorin was humming in an attempt to keep Kili calm. The panic on the normally cheerful face of the prince seemed wrong on so many levels. He clutched his brother's hand in a death grip, trying to will Fili to get better quicker.

Curled up on the other side of the King lay the unconscious Hobbit. Their newest dwarfling was of most concern. Gandalf had managed to stop the bleeding, but the wizard could not say if his condition was improving or not. Neither Oin nor Gandalf could sense anything beyond skin-deep.

"Gandalf, where did you go earlier?" Thorin asked suddenly.

The wizard had been falling asleep leaning against a nearby tree, but tensed at the question. "I found what I believed to be a troll's cave. It is where they hid during the day to avoid the sun. I was on my way back to warn you."

Dori watched the King nod his head slightly. The gesture was the Dwarven version of an apology, especially for a noble dwarf like Thorin. The wizard had been right about the danger. It was the closest thing to an apology Thorin would give; and Gandalf seemed to realize that too.

"Though I am not convinced the trolls are responsible for the farm's destruction. They would not have left the bodies whole. I still sense something is amiss with this area, though I do not sense danger. Most confusing" Gandalf frowned. He did not want to say out loud what he really thought. He knew that without proof, they would not believe the trolls were sent here to delay them. For what purpose, Gandalf did not know.

"Is it safe to travel tomorrow? I wish to be far from this place as soon as possible." Thorin grumbled while glancing down at the Hobbit.

"Moving the injured would be most unwise. They need to rest in order to heal properly. It could be done, but the healing process will take longer or could move backwards." Oin said calmly from his place beside the Hobbit. He was collecting every cloth that had dried gold on it. Dori could see the growing disapproval on Gandalf's face at the dwarf's insistence on keeping every drop of Bilbo's blood. A sudden thought occurred to Dori.

"Mr. Gandalf, are all Hobbits made of gold?" he asked.

The entire company froze and turned as one to look at the wizard. If all Hobbits were made of gold, Dori would turn around now. Erebor did not have gold that reproduced more gold. The gold under the mountain was protected by a dragon while the Shire was unprotected. The simple fact of the matter was that the gold in Erebor was an inanimate object while the Hobbits could work and make more money. There was so much potential, he could actually taste it. Glancing at Nori, Dori could see the greed growing in his brother's eye and knew instantly that they agreed.

"No! Hobbits are not made of gold. I had no idea Bilbo had been changed so much by…" the infuriating wizard stopped suddenly.

"What happened to the Hobbit? We have a right to know!" Dwalin said. The other dwarves were roaring and arguing amongst themselves. To have the dream of Hobbit-gold taken away, especially after the troll ordeal, meant that the dwarves were agitated.

"Enough!" The King roared. His voice echoed around the campsite for a moment. Thorin turned his full glare at the wizard.

"Dwalin is correct. Does this have something to do with that conversation I overheard at Bag End? Are they responsible for Bilbo's prison and his transformation?" Thorin growled.

Sighing, the wizard searched his pockets for more pipeweed. Dori recognized this stalling tactic. It reminded him of all the times Ori would suddenly look for a "lost" quill whenever Dori was yelling.

"I will tell you what I can. You must understand that the Council made a decree regarding what happened 5 years ago. The story begins as any good story about a Burglar should: poison, misdirection, and the theft of an objection that was supposed to be beyond stealing…"

* * *

 

_{5 years ago…}_

Standing over the body of the giant spider called Lebrennil, Gandalf felt an immense sense of triumph. He had defeated the large spider the men at the Prancing Pony had mentioned.

It was only when Gandalf finally reached the edge of the Old Forest that the adrenaline rush left and a new problem became apparent. Yanking the spider fang out of the torn sleeve of his robe, Gandalf considered his options.

The poison would kill him before he reached Rivendell. Lord Elrond could have healed him in seconds. Swaying with each step, Gandalf approached the signpost that was nearby. The image was too distorted to read from a distance.

"Buckland…the Shire" he slurred.

Belladonna Baggins had an assortment of herbs in her garden. Though she had died several years ago, he knew Bilbo would have kept the garden thriving. The young Hobbit had learned quite a bit from the Took side of the family.

Gandalf staggered through the Shire for the rest of the night before reaching Bag End as the sun was rising. Leaning heavily on his staff and barely able to see, the Wizard knocked on the door. He collapsed when the action overbalanced him. Before unconsciousness could claim him, he heard a voice from inside the house.

"Just a minute. I don't know who you are, but I will have you know all _good_ Hobbits should be sleeping at this hour. The nerve of some people"

As he lost consciousness, the door finally opened to reveal Bilbo Baggins. The Hobbit glanced around at Hobbit eye-level.

"Hello? Hello? This is unacceptable! If this is someone's idea of a joke to knock on my door and run away before I answer it, then I assure you that you will not get away with this! I will…Oh! Oh, dear. Are you alright? Hello, Sir?…"

…The next time Gandalf woke, the only thought he had was that everything hurt. Moving was completely out of the question. It felt as if he had run up to the top of a tall mountain and jumped off the top. Somehow, even his teeth hurt. Gandalf was not entirely sure what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the spider.

_The Spider!_ he thought frantically.

He tried to move his arms, but they were held immobile. Something was wrapped tightly around his entire body.

_Spider web! I have to free myself while I still have air_. Frightened, he struggled against his bindings. Sitting up too quickly, he fell back and almost blacked out.

"There, there. You have been very ill and need to take care when moving. Have no fear, you are safe and recovering nicely." a voice to his left said. A small hand was patting his arm.

"Bilbo?"

"You're really back this time? I must say, this is a vast improvement over the last time you were awake. You accused me of being a ferret and tried to feed me your pillow." Bilbo giggled into his hand.

Glancing around, Gandalf saw that he was laying down partly in the foyer and partly in the hall of Bag End. He realized the cocoon was actually blankets and not any sort of spider webbing, much to his relief. His bed appeared to be every pillow in Bag End, possibly the entire Shire.

Kneeling next to him, Bilbo Baggins was dipping a cloth into a bowl filled with a green liquid. The cloth was then placed over the wizard's brow. It was almost like the cloth was actually made of snow- the coolness was so refreshing!

"I…am in your debt. Thank you, my friend." Gandalf smiled kindly at his dear friend who had inherited his mother's kindness and charity. Also, the incredible knowledge of herbs, if he was not mistaken.

"Don't worry about that. I used to enjoy all the stories the Old Took told about Gandalf the Gray. You were 20 feet tall and could blow up a pack of Orcs with your whiz-poppers."

The wizard could not contain his laughter. "I dare say you know better now though I would appreciate spreading the story about the whiz-poppers. Good for business."

"You've got a deal. Oh, before I forget, a letter arrived here a few days ago. A giant bird swooped into my garden. I thought for sure I was going to be dead. But it dropped this letter and flew off."

Curiosity consumed him as he reached for the letter. The Council seal was upon the envelope. Something must have happened. He brought the letter closer to his eyes and then moved it further away. Cursing at the poison still effecting his sight, Gandalf asked Bilbo to read the letter to him:

_Mithrandir,_

_I hope all is well. You missed the last meeting. Sarumon assured us that you will be here soon, but Lady Galadriel has sensed danger surrounding you. Our concern grows the longer we are out of contact for a crisis is upon us. We have need of a Burglar. The matter is too delicate to be included in this letter. If you know of a qualified individual, please recommend them with your reply._

_Your Worried Friend,_

_Lord Elrond_

* * *

 

_{Present day…}_

"The rest of the story interferes with the Council's decree so that is that, I'm afraid." Gandalf sighed. He took the time to re-light his pipe which had gone out during his story.

There was an uproar among the company, just as Gandalf suspected. Dwarves were curious by nature. A Hobbit made of gold was an enigma which also played on the curse of Dwarven greed. They were demanding to know more. Dwarves were entirely too impatient to wait, especially since this wait would be without end.

Gandalf held his hands up in surrender and tried to explain, "No, no, no. You do not understand. A decree is not just an order or a promise to do something. It is powerful magic. If I say the words that break the decree, then I am not the only one who will be severely punished. The spell will make certain that the speaker and all of the listeners will suffer, too. I am stopping here for your well-being as well as my own."

"That's not good enough! You have told us everything but what we wanted to know, Gandalf. This does not answer any of our questions. Certainly, a clever wizard like you could figure out some way around this decree." Thorin said coldly.

_Save me from Dwarven stubbornness! How many ways can I explain this till they understand the consequences?_ Gandalf thought to himself. This was exactly the reason he had not brought this up sooner. The Dwarves would never be satisfied until they knew the whole truth. He was saved, by the most unlikely ally.

"Mr. Gandalf, do you mean to tell us that the decree will only punish everyone if you speak certain words which it specifically prohibits?" Nori asked while nudging Dori. His older brother immediately had a smile on his face. It was a wild idea, but it just might work.

The Wizard gazed at Nori for a moment, trying to work out exactly what the Dwarf was really thinking. Of all the dwarves before him, Gandalf always had difficulty understanding Nori and his unique, intuitive leaps in logic. Gandalf answered slowly, suspicion clear on his face. "Yes, I suppose you could say it that way."

Nori nodded for his brother to continue. "Hear us out a moment. When we were young, we used to play a game during our weapon's training. As we fought, our Father would tell us a story where we supplied the relevant information. The more outlandish the story, the more focus was put on remembering the story then on the fight. At the end of our exercise, we would have to recite the entire story back to him, or start all over again. It taught us to be aware of our surroundings, notice details while still focusing on the task at hand, and concentration, in general." Dori replied.

"How does this help?" Gandalf asked.

"For instance, Father would start telling us a story about a dwarf walking in a cave and he found a '...' Father would then wait for one of us to answer what the dwarf found. The story continued in this manner until the end of training. We would then recite the entire story back to him, including the words Dori, Nori, and I had interjected." Ori answered, his features relaxing as he caught onto what Nori was suggesting.

"We were all trained in a similar manner. What of it?" Dwalin asked.

"Mr. Gandalf is a clever wizard. He could tell us the story and when he comes across a word that will activate the punishment from the decree, he can motion to us. We will give Gandalf a safer word to use, instead. If anyone asks, we can always recite the story with our words and no one will be the wiser." Dori said, nodding his head.

Sighing, Gandalf glanced at the sky as he spoke, "You want me to tell you everything and allow you to fill in the blanks? That is in no way to tell a story, but I suppose it is the best I can do."

The idea was crazy, and yet, had merit at the same time. The more Gandalf thought of it, the more he agreed with the plan. There was a brilliant eloquence to it.

"It is certainly worth a try, isn't it, Uncle?" Kili was almost bouncing with excitement. Thorin glanced at all the dwarves before turning to look at Gandalf.

"Tell us." Thorin said simply.

Gandalf took a moment to gather his thoughts before he began.

"The group of people I was staying with, the ..." At this point, Gandalf waved his hand towards the dwarves, asking for a word.

"Knife ears" Dwalin answered, raising an eyebrow as if challenging Gandalf to contradict him.

The wizard sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose, "Another word, if you please."

"Children" Balin answered after shrugging at his brother, for Dwalin had given a perfectly reasonable answer, by dwarven standards.

"Thank you. The Children wanted Bilbo to steal a ..."

"Tiddlywinks." Kili answered with a smirk.

"What is a tiddlywinks?" Bofur asked in confusion.

"It is some sort of Hobbit game where you compete to flip tiny disks. Mr. Bilbo promised to teach Fili and I the game in return for not walking on his kitchen table. Again."

"Perhaps he can teach all of us. It sounds like-" a cough interrupted Bofur.

"If I may continue?" Gandalf replied dryly.

The King's deep voice answered, "Please do."

"As I was saying, the Children wanted Bilbo to steal a tiddlywinks. What I did not know at the time however was that the Children were setting Bilbo up to fail."

"Why would they want him to fail?" Balin growled. He did not like where this was going at all. The elves were being deceitful from the start. No one harms a dwarfling.

"They were tasked with protecting the tiddlywinks. Some of the, ahem, Children were concerned that it was not safe enough where they hid it. They wanted a Burglar to try and steal it in order to test the security measures that were guarding it." Gandalf paused to smoke from his pipe. He would need the courage and soothing effect for the next part.

"Bilbo did it, didn't he?" Gloin asked when the wizard was taking too long.

"Yes, he did, but that is not what angered the Children." Gandalf was struggling with the painful memories of what was to come.

This time, no one interrupted. The dwarves could sense that this was going to be bad. Kili clutched tighter to Fili's hand while leaning more heavily into Thorin's side.

"Along the way back, Bilbo was attacked by ..."

"Doilies." Balin answered calmly. Ori snorted in amusement before being hushed by his brother.

"Doilies? Did he just say 'doilies'?" Oin asked his brother. At Gloin's nod, Oin muttered, "Well, that was unexpected."

"Precisely the point. We want to make the word something so ridiculous that the decree will not take notice." Balin answered reasonably.

"Very wise, Mr. Balin. As I was saying, Bilbo was attacked by Doilies. He did not want the Doilies to get the tiddlywinks. The tiddlywinks, being so small, Bilbo, well, he…" At this point, Gandalf stuttered to a stop, filled with worry. He was unsure if Bilbo's actions would be seen by the dwarves as taboo, or insulting in some way.

"He swallowed it, didn't he?" Nori said, suddenly.

"Yes! How did you know?" Gandalf asked, stunned. The rest of the company was equally stunned it seemed.

"Bilbo is a third-generation Burglar. He would know that he's about to be searched, and that the tiddlywinks will be taken away. It seems only logical that he would swallow such a small item, which gives him a few days to get to a safe place. The tiddlywinks will…um… be back by then." Nori explained in a rush.

"I don't want to know why you know that, Brother." Dori whispered to Nori. With a small smirk, Nori patted his brother on the arm in a soothing manner. Dori buried his face in his hands, muttering "Get on with it, Gandalf."

Coughing to hide his amusement, Gandalf continued, "Exactly, only something went very wrong, for the tiddlywinks did not come back, not at all. Instead, the tiddlywinks dissolved inside of Bilbo."

Thorin raised his eyebrow slowly while he tried to figure this out. "So this tiddlywinks got stuck inside of Bilbo and these Children wanted it back, I take it?"

"Indeed, there was a vote, and it was tied. Some believed that Bilbo should be killed so that they could remove the tiddlywinks which was trying to overtake Bilbo. I voted against any harm coming to Bilbo. The leader of the Children overruled us." Gandalf looked down, unable to meet the eyes of anyone in the company. He knew that they would never understand what it was like to have Sarumon overrule him, to know that he had failed to keep his dear friend from being harmed.

"What are you saying? You would let them hurt Bilbo!" roared the King.

"I called all of the Children to me so that I could force the numbers of the vote in my favor. Sadly, they did not get there in time." Radagast had been horrified to learn he had been too late for that first vote.

Dwarves were very protective of family, especially dwarflings. Add the fact that Bilbo was apparently made of gold, and Gandalf knew he had to diffuse the situation with no small amount of tact and charm before he had to defend himself.

"The only way he could have survived such a shock to his system would be if the tiddlywinks was made of some form of magic." Oin reasoned out slowly.

"What makes you think that, Mr. Oin?" Gandalf asked, feigning a calmness that he did not feel. This was getting dangerously close to breaking the decree. He could feel the magic of the spell gathering around them, as if it were a predator waiting to pounce.

"Elves do not value things that a dwarf does. Magic is what they value. If this tiddlywinks was important to them, then it stands to reason that the tiddlywinks was a magical item. It is possible that so much magic trapped inside of a Hobbit would have unusual effects." the Stonespeaker answered. Now that he knew what he was looking at, Oin could almost sense magic in the Hobbit.

"I'm afraid I must end this conversation right here and now. Anything more is well beyond the scope of this game" Gandalf answered. The wizard did not want to play this game anymore. He feared the decree's punishment was upon them.

A groan from Fili caught their attention. "Oh, thank Aule, it is only a game. I woke during that part about tiddlywinks and Doilies. All this time, I've been worried that those trolls broke my brain."

* * *

 

Bilbo turned over and snuggled under his blankets. His bed was always so comfortable, even after all these years. Mother used to complain about the struggle she endured daily when trying to wake him. It was that comfortable. Stretching until his back popped, Bilbo slowly opened his eyes and looked around.

The sight of his bedroom at Bag End filled Bilbo with a sense of peace and comfort. Everything was in its rightful place, exactly where it should be. Though, there was a strange sense that something was amiss when he looked at the fire. The blaze was a golden hue instead of the normal red hue that fire always took. Starring at the strange fire, Bilbo suddenly remembered the dwarves.

_What is happening? How am I here?_ His thoughts began racing as he became more frightened. What if the entire quest had been a dream? He ran to his bedroom window. The view should have been of the gardens. But there was no view. Outside of the window, there was nothing but a golden liquid that covered the entire window.

"Good Gracious! What is that? It almost looks like honey…" Bilbo muttered. The window would not open, despite Bilbo unlocking the latch and pulling with all of his might. Perhaps it really was honey…

"I wanted to make you comfortable while we talked." came a voice from behind Bilbo. He turned around so fast that he almost fell. For a moment, he thought that the door had been replaced by a mirror. The Hobbit entering the room was Bilbo in every way, except the eyes. Where Bilbo's eyes were brown from his beloved mother, this Hobbit had glowing black eyes.

"You…" Bilbo whispered, placing both of his hands on his face in horror.

"Me." The Other said with a bemused look on his Bilbo-face.

"What have you done? Where are we? Where are the dwarves? Gandalf? How did -" Bilbo asked rapid-fire without waiting for an answer until The Other held up his hands.

"One question at a time, please." Walking into the bedroom, The Other sat down in Bilbo's desk chair and pointed to the bed. "Have a seat and I will explain while we have this rare opportunity."

Glancing out the bedroom door, the only available escape route, Bilbo saw the same gold substance was covering the entire doorway where the hallway should have been. Gingerly, Bilbo sat on the bed.

"While you were untying the dwarves, the last troll woke up. He was going to kill Bombur. I couldn't let that happen. Unfortunately, your skull met the ground quite hard and here we are. Tea?" The Other had Bilbo's tea set and was pouring chamomile tea into the teacups next to it.

"Why?" Bilbo whispered.

"Why, what?" The Other asked, handing a teacup to Bilbo across the way. They spent a moment drinking delicious tea, after Bilbo watched his doppelganger take a sip first. Burglar instincts.

"Where are we?" Bilbo asked suddenly. If he did not know better, he would swear he really was in his bedroom at Bag End.

"This is where I go when you are awake. The rest of the house is…well…under repairs at the moment. It should be finished by morning if all goes to plan. Next question." The Other answered calmly.

"Why did you save Bombur by putting yourself, and me, in danger? It was just so…" Bilbo flailed his hand for a moment as if that would help him find the right word.

"Selfless. Kind. Incredibly heroic." The Other offered.

"This is not what I expected, especially after how we, well, how we met. You were constantly trying to take over my body. You killed those elves."

Placing his teacup back on the table, The Other slumped back in his chair. Bilbo could remember himself doing the same thing as a child when he had been caught stealing vegetables from the neighbor's garden.

"You don't understand. I was suddenly stuck inside of a strange body. There were so many things happening at once. I wanted to see what was happening. Opening your eyes, I saw those elves about to kill us while Gandalf just stood there. He was watching as his unarmed friend was about to be murdered and eviscerated. He was supposed to be your friend! The elves were supposed to be our allies." The Other's eyes were not just glowing now. They burned a black flame that extended out of his eyes.

Bilbo shivered. He had not seen Gandalf before The Other had taken over. Why would Gandalf let the elves hurt him? He had been a friend of Bilbo's grandfather, The Old Took. The wizard would never just stand there and watch Bilbo be harmed. This was a trick! He would not let anyone besmirch the good name of Gandalf the Gray. The man had proven himself and did not deserve this.

"You're lying! Gandalf would never hurt me!" Bilbo screamed, flinging the teacup at The Other. The teacup flew right through him as if he was not there. All Bilbo could do was stare at him.

The Other stood and placed both hands on Bilbo's shoulders, brown eyes met black. Bilbo could not stop the flinch as a cold feeling spread all over his body, starting with his shoulders. "Think for a moment. You are getting 1/14 of the treasure. According to the contract, the King is using his share to rebuild the desecrated kingdom. There are 13 dwarves and a burglar. What does Gandalf get? Why is he helping the dwarves?"

* * *

 

Climbing the sheer rock face leading to the fortress, a lone figure struggled to keep his footing. No one would guess from his appearance that the elf who was covered in layers of dirt was the majestic, mighty warrior named Elrond.

"Radagast was right" Elrond muttered to himself. Looking back at the Greenwood below, he could sense that the forest was dying, just like Radagast had sensed in Imladris. There was a foul stench of evil and decay that clung to everything.

Following Saruman's map had lead Elrond to the Southern Greenwood Forest. If he was not on a quest of such importance, Elrond would have been greatly concerned by the state of affairs here. But his mind was consumed with finding the ingredients to help his little girl. Nothing else mattered; not his health, appearance, or station, even a dead forest could not distract him.

This ingredient was most unusual for a healing potion, but Elrond trusted that Saruman knew what should be done. The man was a powerful wizard who ruled the White Council. He was above reproach.

Finally, Elrond reached the summit and entered the fortress. There was a thick coating of dust on the stone floor, proving that no one had crossed the threshold in many years. Entering the courtyard, Elrond finally saw it.

The Black Cypress was one of the rarest of flowers for it only grew in the presence of magical decay. How did the Wizard know that the death flower was here?

As he reached down to pluck the flower, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head. Elrond collapsed to the ground, groaning in agony.

An armored hand yanked his head up and back so that the Elf Lord could see the face of his attacker.

"No…." Elrond moaned before losing consciousness. He was roughly dropped back onto the ground as his attacker chuckled darkly. Pointing a decaying finger at Elrond, he cast a spell that hit the elf directly in the heart. A shimmering glow started at the feet of the attacker, morphing his appearance to be an exact match to Elrond

"You should have cleaned yourself up before greeting a King." Angmar said cruelly, in an exact approximation of the elf's voice. The face of Lord Elrond smirked cruelly down at the Elf Lord's prone form before dragging him further into Dol Guldur.


	8. Flint

Disclaimer: Tolkien and Peter Jackson's work is theirs and not mine. I had to specify about Peter Jackson for Tauriel, who has honored us with her presence in this story. There is also a line from Nightcore's song "Secret". I hope that covers all bases with this disclaimer.

Enjoy!

* * *

 

The old ruins of Weathertop had been considered haunted by the locals for years. Strange howls at night. Travelers that went too close and never returned. What most of the good people did not realize was that Weathertop was the new home of Azog the Defiler.

Azog and his son, Bolg, chose this location out of all of Middle Earth. The legend of this place had even reached Orcish ears. Centuries ago, the stone formations were used to cast a powerful spell in an attempt to save a dying king. Much of the ground had been eroded by violent storms over the years. Humans, those meddlesome pests, had used some of the stones to build a tower on the top of the mountain.

If all of the stones were moved back into their exact position, it was believed the spell should have enough magic to work again. At least, that was what the blue wizard said when Azog "asked" him. It was a pity the wizard did not live long enough to see if it would work.

They had waited for this night for years. Every stone was in its place. The skies were cloudy, promising a heavy rain. Perfect weather for a thunderstorm, which is what would add enough energy to activate the spell. Everything was happening as it should. Azog could not be happier. This spell was going to give him back his arm. He swore to strangle Thorin Oakenshield and the entire line of Durin with his bare hands.

"Place the spearheads on top of each stone formation, now!" Azog roared. He watched as his grunts scrambled to get the spearheads in place. They needed to get the lightning to hit the stone. Sitting on the platform at the center of the circular stone formation, the Pale Orc was ready for the spell to hit him.

"We shall see if the wizard's was telling the truth." Bolg said to his father. He almost regretted killing the wizard now. If this did not work, he would have had an easy target to vent his frustrations.

The storm was moving towards them now. Grunts were shuffling their feet in anticipation. The first lightning in the sky scorched the ground near the formation. All of the Wargs were growing weary. They did not like being this close to a lightning strike. Wind and rain was pelting all of them, adding to their stress.

"More spearheads on the formation. Fools!" Bolg ordered. It was a testament to how much the grunts feared him that they rushed to comply, despite the danger. As one of the grunts was placing another spearhead, lightning struck both the grunt and the spearhead. The bolt travelled through both till it reached the stone.

The entire formation lit up with an eerie blue light. Streams of light raced from each stone to hit Azog in the chest. His entire body felt like it was on fire for a few seconds and then the spell ended abruptly.

Opening his eyes, Azog first saw his son. Bolg was barely containing a murderous rage. Glancing down at his arm, Azog saw the same terrible metal arm and twisted hooks which had served as a makeshift arm since that cursed dwarf had cut off the real one. The spell had failed.

"Never trust a wizard! I should have known this would not work" Azog groaned. He felt drained. The spell did not appear to do anything at all.

"Are you sure about that?" a deep voice asked from the outskirts of the ruins. The Orcs rushed at the intruder with weapons at the ready. No one should have been able to get past the perimeter guards. A shadow moved closer to the Pale Orc. As it past the perimeter of the stone formation, a blue light of magic encircled the formation, preventing anyone admittance. Wargs and grunts charged the magic shield but could not get through to come to the aid of Azog and Bolg.

The shadow materialized into a very short cloaked figure. Judging by the size, it had to be a Hobbit. His face was completely concealed by the cloak.

Bolg stood before his father, weapon drawn and ready to charge the Hobbit when he spoke again. "You wanted a new arm. I can give you that for a small price."

Suspicion consumed Azog. There was something very odd about this creature. Hobbits were not supposed to have magic. They were little rabbits that scurried about in terror and shrieked when caught. Orcs knew this from experience. But this one did not fear him. For this reason alone, Azog stopped his son.

"Wait, Bolg. What do you want?" the Pale Orc asked. If the price was not too high, then he might pay it or kill the presumptuous creature after his arm was healed.

"A Hobbit travels with your enemy. I can give you the location of Thorin Oakenshield if the Hobbit is delivered to me alive and unharmed." the Hobbit whispered cruelly.

"If you know where they are, why not get the Hobbit yourself? We are not your servants!" Bolg growled. This creature thought Orcs were stupid if he thought they would fall for this.

"You are servants of my Master. I am giving you the opportunity to serve him again. Do this and you will be rewarded with more than an arm and the fulfillment of your vengeance. Perhaps a demonstration is in order." the Hobbit said as he suddenly disappeared from sight.

Wargs trapped on the other side of the barrier began growling, promising death if the Pale Orc and his son were harmed. Their threats had no effect, however.

A sharp pain in his side had Azog falling to the ground, screaming in agony. As he fell, he saw that the Hobbit still had his teeth sunk deep into the flesh of his side. Bolg rushed to his father's side and attempted to behead the creature. It disappeared before the sword could touch him. Starting at the bite wound, Azog was burning all over his body, but especially around where his arm used to be. The metal arm tore out of his body and crashed into the stone formation, knocking it over.

Bolg could only watch in a fascinated horror as first bone, then muscles, and finally skin came out of the twisted stump of his father's arm. It rippled until his new arm matched the uninjured arm perfectly.

Flexing the fingers of his new hand, Azog was numb with shock. This is what he had wanted ever since the arm had been removed. His arm was back!

The Hobbit materialized on the side of the Pale Orc, looking over the new limb. "So many years spent emulating the Wargs with which you travel. This gift seems rather fitting. Yes, this will do."

"What are you saying? What does a new arm have to do with Wargs? What have you done to my Father?!" Bolg yelled. He still wanted to kill this dreadful little pest. Yet again, his father stopped him.

Azog was scratching at the bite mark in his side. His blood was still burning. He had heard of servants of Sauron who had been turned like this. He smiled, showing every single ugly tooth that resided in his mouth.

"A rare gift, indeed. Where is the company of Thorin Oakenshield? You have my word that the Hobbit will be captured, unharmed." Azog said, making a motion with his hand for Bolg to be silent. Later, he would make sure that his son and all of his pack understood the great gift that had been given. But right now was a time for negotiating.

The cloaked Hobbit chuckled darkly. "I have delayed their journey with a few trolls and, hopefully, thinned their numbers a bit. Go to the human McCoy farm. Do what you want with the dwarves, but the Hobbit is mine. Bring him to Dol Guldur"

"Agreed"

With a strange hum, the Hobbit disappeared.

Bolg turned to his father in shock and confusion. "Why would you agree to that?"

The Pale Orc continued to flex his new fingers and move his new arm. "I am not a fool, mind your place. Take a patrol to the Shire. We will teach this Hobbit to show some respect." Azog growled.

"Send word to our allies. I need the Hobbit alive and unharmed. Hunt them down!"

* * *

 

Gloin marched with the company towards the troll cave that Gandalf mentioned last night. The injured remained at the campsite with Dwalin standing watch.

The wizard had not sensed any danger this morning, but was still uneasy about something. Gloin could see the tension in his shoulders. The lines on his face were more pronounced. This could have been from the Hobbit being injured, but Gloin suspected something more was happening. It was just beyond his grasp to see it, but he did not feel easy in his mind about staying in this area another day.

"Here it is." Gandalf announced as they climbed to the top of the hill. Buried in the side of the mountain, the cave itself smelled horrible. It smelled of decay, refuse, with a vile stench of evil.

Before entering the cave, Bifur started shouting. Gloin hated to admit his Khuzdul was a bit rusty, but even he knew the word for "unsafe". It was a word that every dwarf who lived in a mountain knew, especially when yelled by a miner. Bifur came from a long line of miners. All dwarves backed away from the cave immediately.

The company stood at battle-ready while Bifur explained to Bofur, resorting to grunts and hand signals when he came across a word that did not translate into the Khuzdul language. Bofur's face was growing paler the longer he stood listening.

"The stone around the cave has been altered. There should be no cave here at all. Some sort of magic is on the mountain, forcing it to make this cave." Bofur explained.

After examining the cave entrance, Oin rushed to Thorin's side. "This is a trap for the line of Durin! Thorin, stand back further. A few minutes after you cross the threshold, the cave will collapse!" Thorin reared back as if the cave was spitting poison.

The King glared at the wizard. "Why did you bring us here? Did you know about this?"

"No! There is something about this cave that is still calling me. I cannot truly explain it." Gandalf said slowly. He never took his eyes off of the cave as if he was hypnotized.

Balin nudged the Stonespeaker and motioned for him to scan the wizard. He had traveled with Gandalf before and knew the wizard was not acting himself. At the first scan, the wizard shook and collapsed. Thorin caught the human on the way down.

"Oin, what is happening?" Thorin demanded.

"While it is not exactly a spell, there is some sort of compulsion to go into that cave. We dwarves are immune to this spell, but he is not. He needs to be unconscious in order for me to block it, otherwise, he might fight me."

"Do it." Thorin ordered. He had known the wizard was acting strangely, but had not considered an outside influence. This raised many questions. The cave was clearly here to be used by the trolls to protect them from sunlight. If the cave was made by someone, then that someone wanted the trolls here. Considering the spell was designed to kill the line of Durin, Gloin knew that a new threat was upon them. A threat that was more powerful than Gandalf the Gray.

"He will wake soon. His mind is now clear of the magic."

Oin was scratching his beard as he turned to discuss options with Bifur, "We cannot leave the cave here. It's magic is already starting to taint the mountain. All of Middle Earth is connected. This wound will fester, otherwise."

Gloin did not catch much of Bifur's answer as he was speaking directly into Oin's ear-set. Between Oin's Stonespeaker skill and Bifur's background with mining, Gloin was quite confident that the two would find a solution.

Suddenly, Gandalf woke with a shout. "Don't go in the cave!"

"Easy now. We are all safe." Bofur said soothingly.

The wizard knelt next to the King so that he was on eye-level with Thorin. "I cannot apologize enough. The closer I was to the cave, the more control the cave had on me. It was not like this last night when I found the cave. I don't understand it."

Thorin nodded, but kept a suspicious look on his face.

"No harm done. You need to tell me when something is happening to you. We dwarves are immune to most magic and will not sense the danger." Balin said while helping the wizard to his feet.

Gloin watched the King brooding from a distance. He could only imagine what was going through his mind. This was a direct attack against him and his kin. Fili and Kili were thankfully back at camp, but there were other dwarves in this company that could trace their lineage to his line. It would have crushed them, too.

"Stand away from the cave! When we end the spell, whatever is in the cave will either be crushed or fly out. We are not sure which, but be prepared for both." Oin yelled to the company.

Bifur directed them to stand behind a large boulder. It was far enough away from the cave to protect from the flying contents. As the boulder was not directly attached to the mountain, it was untainted by the dark magic that was slowly poisoning the area.

Gandalf stood before the boulder. A blue glow began at the tip of his staff, creating a blue path which headed towards the cave the moment it touched the ground. Rushing behind the boulder, Gandalf nodded to Oin. Gloin stood behind his brother, keeping guard while the Stonespeaker turned inwards to draw on his magic.

The mountain shuddered as the ground shook. Several items flew out of the cave before the stone repaired itself. Where the cave had been, the mountain was steaming, but intact once more.

Oin slumped into his brother's arms as the spell ended. Gloin held him until he recovered his strength a few minutes later. The wizard and rest of the company was inspecting the items that had been in the troll hoard.

Gandalf deemed every item but one safe from the tainted magic. Gloin noticed an assortment of treasure that had been expelled from the cave. He shared a look with Bofur.

"It seems a shame to leave this lying about" Bofur said with a wicked grin.

"Nori, get a shovel" Gloin said with a greedy gleam in his dwarven eyes.

Thorin was examining a sword. While it was filthy after being in the cave, the blade was sharper than any dwarven sword he had ever seen. It was perfectly balanced, but the origins were still a mystery.

"These were made by the High Elves." Gandalf said in wonder, holding another sword of similar quality. He saw the distaste on the King's face as he flung the blade to the ground and could not believe Dwarven pride. The wizard's eyes darkened in rage, "A finer blade you will never find."

Slowly, Thorin picked up the blade again for a closer inspection.

From the distance, the company heard four distinct hoots.

* * *

 

At the campsite, Fili was still too dizzy to move around much. Kili stayed by his side at all times. Bombur was attempting to teach Ori how to stretch his arms in order to relieve a severe cramp without causing additional damage.

While keeping watch over the camp, Dwalin was busy repairing Bombur's armor which the troll had almost crushed. In order to heal the large dwarf, Oin had broken the breastplate to allow for easier breathing. The warrior's sharp hearing was listening for any sounds of trouble.

A pain-filled whimper alerted Fili that the Hobbit was waking. He rushed over, with Kili's help, to aid their injured friend. Expecting to see brown eyes when Bilbo woke, Fili was surprised when glowing black eyes appeared on the Hobbit's face.

"You're not Bilbo, are you?" Fili asked quietly with a feeling of dread. The Hobbit started to shake his head but cringed as the action made him dizzy.

"We need to heal Bilbo before he wakes, otherwise, he will not wake." The Other said. Seeing the suspicion growing on dwarven faces, The Other pleaded with them, "I cannot do this on my own!"

While continuing to stare into the eyes that held no trace of their friend, Fili and Kili both shared an entirely silent conversation. Finally, they reached a decision.

"Tell me what you need." Fili answered.

"In Bilbo's waistcoat...under buttons...a shard. A small piece...will do." The Other gasped out, pointing to Bilbo's pack. Bombur, who had been listening to the conversation, patted Kili on the back and moved as fast as his injury would allow to get the waistcoat. The Hobbit's coat had been removed when Oin examined his injuries last night. Several of the company's cloaks were being used as blankets to keep Bilbo warm. They had all wanted to do something for their dwarfling.

The shard that Bombur handed Fili was most curious. It was a piece of black obsidian that held an unnatural shine to it, matching the glowing eyes perfectly.

Before breaking a small piece off of the shard, Fili nodded towards Dwalin. The older dwarf let out a loud owl hoot, followed by three smaller hoots. Off in the distance, hoots responded back to let him know the company was returning, now with considerable haste. Fili knew that Thorin would want to know about Bilbo waking and not waking. His uncle shared the protective feeling that had been growing in the hearts of the entire company towards their burglar. Uncle just hid it very well.

"I have the shard here. Now what?" Kili asked. Fili could sense his brother growing very nervous about treating Bilbo. Kili was often nervous when a situation was too serious and usually resorted to humor in times like this. The fact that not even Kili was making jokes now spoke to the seriousness of the situation. The life of Mr. Baggins was literally in their hands.

Ori, Dwalin, and Bombur all gathered closer, in case they would be needed. This "Other" was an unknown, despite having rescued Bombur. It would not do to lower their guard, especially since the Royal Dwarflings were nearby.

Struggling to stay awake, The Other focused on Fili before speaking.

"I'll explain...after. I need to eat...the shard." The Other was adamant, but this was certainly a strange request.

"This is a rock, lad, not food!" Bombur said in horror. Eating a rock went against everything Bombur knew about food. It was simply not done!

Reaching for Fili's hand, the Hobbit tapped one of the rings that adorned his finger. The Other used the last of his strength to explain the necessity.

"If one of these rings...break, you... solder it. Using another metal... add heat, and blend together-makes it whole again. To heal Bilbo...we must do the same."

"Hmm, makes sense, since you are made of gold." Kili said reasonably.

It all sounded perfectly reasonable to Fili. If the Hobbit was truly made of gold, then this was the solution for fusing the gold back together after it was broken. No wonder magic was not working. Gold was one of the few things in the world that was highly resistant to magic.

The Other flinched slightly when he heard. "You know about...?" he asked nervously.

"Aye, lad. We all know." Dwalin said. He saw no point in keeping this a secret from this being. Looking over Dwalin's shoulder, The Other sighed deeply and closed his eyes in resignation.

"Night vision which is unique to Burglars, you said." the King's voice called out as the rest of the company returned to camp after scouting the troll's cave.

Watching them return, Fili noticed Gandalf quickly hiding something in his pack. He met the wizard's eyes for a moment and then shrugged. The prince would never truly understand the wizard and the motivations behind half of what he did.

Turning back to the Hobbit, Fili watched his face contort in pain and rage. He was glaring intently at Gandalf.

"You told them...despite the decree?" The Other was quite scary when he was angry. Eerie glowing eyes started to sparkle with magic. Thankfully, Bilbo's body was in too much pain to allow The Other to attack.

"Now, you must calm down-"Gandalf began before The Other interrupted.

"The decree...could have killed them! What is wrong with you?!" The Other roared before wincing with pain and collapsing back onto the bedroll of cloaks.

"They needed to know after seeing a Hobbit bleeding gold. I only told them what I knew which is apparently less than I thought. Why _do_ you bleed gold?" the wizard asked with suspicion and curiosity on his wizened face.

"Why when we do our darkest deeds do we tell?" The Other muttered while starring up at the sky. Fili was unsure if it was wise to upset the wizard, regardless of how justified he thought The Other was in his anger. He did know, however, that Bilbo's body was in no condition for this argument.

"Hush, now. Kili, give him the shard." Fili said. Those not present when The Other woke had no idea what that was supposed to mean. They were going to have to trust his authority in this matter.

"What shard?" Balin asked, directing his question to Dwalin. His brother nodded once to him and Balin relaxed slightly. If Dwalin believed it was important, then it was good enough for him. The King was not convinced, however.

"Fili..." the King moved closer to the Hobbit as Kili fed him the shard.

"Stand back!" The Other said, pushing the nearest dwarves back as the Hobbit's body began to heat up.

As soon as the shard was swallowed, Bilbo's entire body began to sweat as if he were lying in the middle of a desert at noontime. His skin began to turn gold as his body heated to an unbearable temperature.

It reminded Fili of standing in Thorin's blacksmith shop when he was younger. The King was well-known among the humans for the quality of his work so there was always work. The old forge never grew cold, radiating enough heat to warm the small house attached to the shop, where their Mother and Thorin raised them. Fili's reminiscing was cut short as a scream of agony tore out of his friend.

Slowly, the Hobbit's body cooled down and returned to a more natural color. When the healing process was finally done, The Other attempted to sit up but flopped down again. He struggled to sit, but was still having trouble.

"Here now. Let me help." Thorin approached the Hobbit slowly. Gandalf tried to stop him from getting too close, but the King was determined to do this. The dwarf gently lifted the Hobbit with an arm supporting his shoulders. Sitting behind The Other, Thorin settled the Hobbit so he could lean back against his chest.

"Uncle..." Fili was not sure what he would have said after that, but Kili did not give him a chance.

"This "Other" saved Bombur when it would have been easier, and far safer, not to do so. If he is as powerful as Gandalf claimed, then he could have killed us long ago. He promised to explain if we gave him the shard and I, for one, believe this explanation is worth the hearing. How well can he explain if he is still uncomfortable?" Kili said to the bewildered company.

This was a startling moment for Fili. He knew, better than most, that Kili had a good heart and mind, but this...

_When did my baby brother grow up without my knowing it?_ Fili thought in wonder.

Thorin gave a small smile to his nephews before motioning for them to stand down. Fili sat near the foot of the Hobbit's bedroll. The rest of the company followed suit until Dwalin and Balin were the only ones standing. They stood in silent guard of their king. Their sharp eyes missing nothing.

The Other relaxed slightly as he realized the dwarves were not going to kill him. "I cannot thank you enough. The elves did not even give me a chance to explain before they..." The Hobbit's face grew distant as his memories became overwhelming. Catching himself revealing too much emotion, the Hobbit relaxed further into Thorin's hold.

"Bilbo cannot know that his body has been changed. It is imperative that he not know. The only thing the truth will accomplish is the end of life as he knows it."

"Why is that?" Gandalf asked. So much had been kept from Bilbo in the past and had proven not worth the pain when the truth came to light later.

Looking intently at the King behind him, The Other struggled to explain, "Suppose I told you that you didn't need to breath anymore. Your lungs were now made of gold. Would you stop breathing? Would that part of your mind that controls your lungs, and has done so since the moment you were born, actually believe my words? Or would you stop breathing, only to experience panic as your mind told your body that you needed the air and could not survive without it?"

Turning to Bombur, The Other asked, "If I told you that your stomach was now made of gold, would you stop eating? Or would your mind tell your stomach that your were hungry, starving, and going to die of starvation without food? All the words in the world cannot reason with that part of the mind that controls those functions. They are survival instincts. It would be like falling into a lake and choosing not to swim to the surface."

Oin spoke then, with a fascination that he could barely contain, "Are you saying that Bilbo was completely transformed into gold? How is he able to move?" Fili could see the dwarf wanted to ask so many questions that the prince was surprised only two, and not more, came out.

"There was so much magic when we joined. It had no outlet except to turn inwards. The only thing that is not made of gold is the outside and soul. Bilbo would never believe it. His mind would never truly accept. It would be like taking away everything that makes you a dwarf and then expecting you to still be dwarven. Magic keeps everything running. But even magic fades over time."

Gandalf stared at The Other, trying to figure out what the Hobbit was not saying.

"Fade?" Thorin asked. A feeling of dread was washing over Fili at whatever the answer would be.

The Hobbit's hands clenched into the cloak blanket, and his face crumpled. Thorin hugged the Hobbit tighter in an attempt to show support as the dwarf could feel the Hobbit shaking slightly.

Starring intently at Gandalf, The Other was searching for something. Though he did not know the whole story, Fili could only imagine how difficult it was for The Other to trust Gandalf after what had happened years ago.

Glancing at Thorin, The Other nodded slowly, "Whenever I cast a spell now, Bilbo's body will need to rest afterwards. The magic that keeps Bilbo's body alive is what powers those spells, too. When the magic is gone, the gold will not be able to move anymore."

"You will both die?" Ori asked, breaking the silence that had descended on the company for a few minutes.

"I don't know for sure. Nothing like this has ever happened, to my knowledge. All those years at Bag End, I spent reading through the Old Took's library, hoping to find an answer."

"Does Bilbo use this magic to turn invisible? Is he killing himself and not even knowing it?" Nori asked. It was Gandalf who answered with a small chuckle.

"Bilbo turns invisible because the Old Took could turn invisible at will. The skill is a time-honored tradition that is handed down to all Tooks, though it is a family secret. Can you imagine the outrage if the rest of the Shire found out?" Nori relaxed slightly at the answer, but couldn't wait to ask Bilbo for training.

"How long do you have before the magic runs out?" Fili asked. He almost did not want to know.

"With luck, Bilbo will live the average number of years for a Hobbit. I found nothing that helps, except those shards"

"What is their purpose?" Oin asked while examining the shards which were sewn into the lining of Bilbo's waistcoat. Gandalf reached over and took one of the shards. Dropping it immediately in shock, the wizard could not contain his gasp of surprise.

"Where did you get these?" Gandalf was washing his hands frantically with his flask of water. Fili had no idea what had startled the wizard. Kili and Bombur had touched the shards with no ill effects.

"Ask the elves. They built a prison with it." The Other answered solemnly. There was a hint of knowledge in those glowing eyes, though. He knew what was troubling Gandalf, of that, Fili was quite certain.

"How did the Council get it, I wonder?" Gandalf replied, growing more concerned.

"Using them to power a spell will prolong the magic inside Bilbo. By signing the contract, we both intend to help you get safely to Erebor." The Other said before yawning.

"Bilbo is waking." his eyes closed before the words left his mouth. Not even a moment later, Bilbo's brown eyes appeared. The Hobbit was startled to see the entire company sitting around his bedroll, staring at him.

Searching each face before him, Bilbo looked worried and resigned to his fate. "Is everyone alright? What did he do?" Bilbo asked.

Fili looked at his Uncle in confusion before Gandalf spoke, "When Bilbo is awake, The Other is asleep and vice versa. Mr. Baggins has no idea what goes on when he is sleeping."

All of the color drained out of Bilbo's face. "They know?"

"We know." Thorin answered.

* * *

 

"Does your father know you're doing this?" Tauriel asked the elf next to her. As the Captain of the Silvan Guards, it was her sworn duty to protect the royal family. Chasing a murderer was stressful enough, but having the prince in the company while searching for said murderer added a whole new level of worry. If she could, she would order him back home immediately.

"He said that one of our Southern patrols was found dead. Their bodies had been partially eaten by a creature. It appears this creature killed them and not for food or survival" Legolas said.

Lowering her voice, Tauriel whispered, "I don't see your father being happy that you were involved with the hunt for a creature that devoured an entire patrol."

Legolas frowned as he continued down the well-worn path, searching the surrounding area with his eyes. He could not sit safely at home while his people were being attacked. He intended to find this creature and satisfy his curiosity about the changes in the forest at the same time.

The forest had changed within the last few weeks and not for the better. It used to be full of life and beauty. Now, the land and animals of the Southern Greenwood were dying. Some travelers had started to call it Mirkwood, instead of Greenwood.

Paths around the forest were disappearing too. These trails had been unchanged for centuries, but now they were gone. Once they were gone, the land was made impossible to travel on because of vicious vines and webs. The size of the webs was of great concern. It would take a small spider centuries to make webs that size.

This creature they were hunting had killed his first victim at the same time the forest started to change. The two events must be connected. Legolas did not believe in coincidence.

The company of Elven warriors he was traveling with came to a fork in the path. Legolas had been traveling this path for decades. There should be no fork at this point. What was happening to the Greenwood Forest? They stopped, awaiting orders.

"Which way, or do we split up?" Tauriel asked.

"We can cover more ground if we split up. Everyone is carrying a yarrow horn? Good. If you see it, call for reinforcements. Do not engage the creature alone. Remember, it has killed before and now favors the taste of elf." Legolas announced. The yarrow horn was instrumental for communication, especially over the large area patrolled in the Greenwood. A single blast of the horn produced a sound similar to the elk's call, but the end of the call was high-pitched. It was only Elven ears that could hear the last note.

He met the eyes of every elf under his command before nodding to Tauriel. A good leader knew the names and faces of every single soldier. He cared about them like they were family. Treating his subordinates with respect meant they would be loyal and true. He refused to lose these good elves to the killer they were hunting.

"We don't know what this thing looks like, but we do know that it is not an animal that is native to this land. This creature is clever and not to be underestimated. Good luck"

Tauriel split the group into two. She and the prince were traveling with two other guards on the west path. It was too much to hope that the creature died of natural causes and find its corpse. Somehow, she doubted they would encounter the best case scenario on this mission.


	9. Jade

Disclaimer: I am merely borrowing Tolkien's work for this crazy story that will continue to ramble on for quite some time.

Enjoy!

* * *

 

_Creak...creak...creak...pop_

There was only pain whenever the elf tried to open his eyes. But he had to wake up if only to stop that incessant noise. The sound was driving him mad!

_Creak...creak...creak...pop_

Stretching slightly, pain exploded in his arms and all the way down his back. Groaning, the elf sat up slowly. Black dots were dancing across his vision as he looked around. Moving his head turned out to be a bad idea as the dizziness increased.

_Creak...creak...creak...pop_

Holding his head in his hands, the elf tried to focus his thoughts. He could not remember anything. What was his name? His clothes were much the worse for wear, as he supposed he was himself. How did he get here? Was he a bad person?

The last question was inspired by his surroundings. He was in a very dirty prison cell. It had wall-to-wall cobwebs as the only decoration. The floor had mud and numerous unknown stains caked on the stone floor. It was absolutely filthy!

_Creak...creak...creak...pop_

Touching the floor with his hands, he cried out in pain. It was so cold that it was burning his hands whenever skin touched the stone. Crawling to the bars of the cell was exhausting but he had to know what was outside. The answer to all of his questions would not be found in this cell.

Glancing through the bars, the elf could see many prison cells lining each side of the hallway. The only cell that was occupied was the one across from his own.

_Creak...creak...creak...pop_

A dark shadow in the corner of that cell moved. The elf continued to stare at the shadow. He was about to dismiss it as a figment of his imagination when he heard it move.

It came one step closer: _Creak...creak...creak...pop_

The next step: _Creak...creak...creak...pop_

Slowly, feet appeared in the torchlight from the hallway. The creature was not just wearing boots- the armor was sewn directly into the creature's leg. It was disturbing to see how the skin had literally grown over the thread holding the armor to the leg.

The elf shivered with fear and disgust. He did not want to see the rest of this being. Very small legs followed, indicating a Dwarf, Hobbit, or something of that size. The next step revealed a chest of armor.

"Elrond, son of Earend"

_Must be the dwarf's name_ , the elf thought.

He could only stare. Time had not been kind to his fellow prisoner. A cloth covered his right eye, but judging from the scars jutting out on either side of the cloth, the eye was gone.

There was a small pouch sewn into the dwarf's throat, in the same manner that the armor was attached. Inside, was a strange purple dust that was constantly moving around. With every inhale, the dust would go into the wound on his neck. Every exhale, the dust would exit the dwarf and go back into the pouch.

"What happened to you, Elrond?" the elf asked.

A look of confusion crossed the disfigured face. "Your name is Elrond. My name is Thrain, son of Thror. You lost your memories?"

Thrain snorted when Elrond nodded. "I should not be surprised. The first contact I have with the outside world in years is, of course, an elf with amnesia."

* * *

 

"You can admit it, you know. None of us would think less of you, Uncle" Kili said suddenly.

The dwarfling had been abnormally quiet while riding with Thorin. Kili had been too injured to ride a pony by himself, like several others in the company. The King had refused to risk moving the injured before visiting the cave. After the cave, he had to resist pushing the ponies into a canter, in order to put as much distance as possible between the company and that death trap.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kili." Thorin grumbled to the dwarf sitting in front of him.

"We all like Mr. Baggins. But you like him more, don't you? It's perfectly alright. That's all I meant." Kili replied. Thankfully, Kili had not turned around when answering. It took Thorin a few minutes to let the blush disappear completely from his face.

He used to be able to hide any emotional reactions, but he was apparently a bit out of practice. Thorin learned to school his expressions for diplomatic functions when he was younger. He could keep a smile on his face while listening to a diplomatic idiot dig a deeper hole for himself, never suspecting the King was fueling his temper to explode in a spectacular way. Tantrums were his forte, though it was nothing compared to Dis. His sister was terrifying.

"Am I supposed to know what that means? Of course, I care for the Halfling. He is a new dwarf that has shown respect for our people combined with a thirst for knowledge. I think he will adjust well to his new life under the mountain. Bilbo Baggins is a credit to our race."

Kili turned to see directly into Thorin's eyes giving him a raised eyebrow for his evasion. "Quite right, Uncle. Quite right"

Thorin could see that this conversation was far from over. Sighing, the King glanced around them.

The rest of the injured were traveling with another of the company, per Oin's request. Bombur was riding with Gandalf, as the wizard's horse was the only one capable of holding the combined weight of Bombur plus one. Fili and Nori were whispering to each other, glancing at the Hobbit every few minutes. Thorin was grateful that Bilbo was riding with Dwalin, as those two mischief-makers were deterred by the warrior's presence. Ori was having an intense conversation with Balin and Oin over the portents.

After a careful survey of the whole party, Thorin realized no one was close enough to eavesdrop on his conversation with Kili. He would never admit his feelings but he could find out what his nephew knew about Bilbo without revealing anything.

"Has the Hobbit spoken to you of his opinion of this company?" He asked hesitantly. Thorin was unable to see the smirk appearing on Kili's face. He did not know the significance of the prince tapping his elbow twice. He also missed an identical smirk on Fili's face as the heir apparent began tossing bags of coins to various dwarves and a meddlesome wizard.

* * *

 

Dwalin could feel how panicked the Hobbit was becoming, sitting in the saddle in front of him. Every time a dwarf caught a bag, the Hobbit would flinch as if the noise were actually the herald of an arrow flying at him. Unfortunately, the flinching had started earlier this morning. Bilbo had not calmed since learning the entire company knew about The Other. He flinched whenever someone went near him. He flinched when someone looked at him. The poor little creature even flinched when Dwalin had attempted small talk earlier, which the dwarf thought was rather unfair considering the effort it took to create the pointless conversation in the first place.

While the warrior did not like that Bilbo and Gandalf had kept the knowledge of this unknown Other from them, he could understand why they did it. He doubted the company would have believed it had they not spoken to The Other directly and seen the Hobbit's golden blood. It was impossible to refute such evidence.

The problem, as Dwalin saw it, was to calm the Halfling before he scared himself to death. As a warrior, he was not known for being the "comforting" sort. Whenever the King or his nephews had been upset, Dwalin made sure to send them in Balin's direction. He was quite certain his brother could calm a scared animal with just a look.

_Why couldn't the Hobbit ride with Balin, or anyone else in the company, for that matter?_ Dwalin thought to himself as Bilbo flinched when the warrior caught his own bag of coins and secured it in his pack.

Mr. Baggins had been terrified of him at Bag End. Dwalin had done nothing to encourage any sense of friendship between them, other than promise to teach Bilbo weapon training, as he would for any dwarfling. Many dwarves sent their children to Dwalin for weapon's training. But a scared little Hobbit was entirely different from the dwarflings he had trained before. Those dwarves were all used to fighting but simply lacked technique.

_Stop stalling and say something to him!_ Dwalin thought to himself. Opening his mouth, Dwalin said the first thing that came to mind.

"When a dwarf attacks, they give a battle yell."

Shuddering slightly, the Hobbit asked, "Pardon?"

"Our blood begins to run faster, heightening all of our senses. Every muscle in our bodies has been trained to relax when this happens, making us prepared for anything. We call it being "battle ready". All of Middle Earth trembles at the sight of a Dwarven army running towards them, striking with all the power of the Stone. We have never cowered or hesitated before a dangerous foe" Dwalin said.

The Hobbit turned to face him, but stopped short of meeting his eyes. He had never met Dwalin's eyes. "Why are you telling me this, Mr. Dwalin?" Bilbo asked.

"This morning, you became afraid of us, fearing we would kill you when we discovered The Other. You forgot that we accepted you as our Dwarfling. Children are sacred among my people, especially with the high mortality rate we experienced after losing Erebor and failing to re-take Moria."

"I am not a child!" Bilbo declared, blustering and affronted as the young often are at being called such.

Glad to see some spirit in the Halfling, Dwalin continued, "The point I was trying to make was that if we were going to attack you, you would have known it by now. The both of you are safe with us, Master Baggins." Seeing the doubt and fear still lingering in the Hobbit's eyes, Dwalin decided that Bilbo was worth sacrificing his gruff manner, if only for a brief moment.

The Hobbit squeaked as the warrior hugged him. Dwalin continued to hold onto him gently, despite Bilbo struggling to get away.

"What are you doing?" Bilbo whispered frantically.

He would never admit to hugging."Squeezing the fear out of you." Dwalin answered simply. Glancing at Balin, he could see his brother and Ori were trying to hide their mirth.

"It's gone! I swear, I am not afraid of you anymore. There isn't a trace of fear left!" Bilbo promised, managing to free one of his arms and pull on the pony's mane as an anchor. Dwalin's pony, Bungo, was not amused and harshly flicked his head to yank the hair out of Bilbo's grasp.

As Dwalin released the Hobbit, Bilbo blushed bright red. The warrior smirked as he realized the rest of the company was carefully _not_ looking at them. Though it was the first time in days that Gandalf had smiled.

"At your service, Mr. Baggins. I am just glad I did not have to resort to drastic measures to vanquish your fear." the warrior grumbled. Bilbo turned around, looking Dwalin directly in the eyes.

_Finally!_ Dwalin thought.

"Drastic measures? That sounds incredibly ominous." Bilbo was trying but failing to hide a smile.

"As it should, though I am unsure if it would have worked. Are Hobbit's ticklish?"

* * *

 

"No!"

"Bilbo, you're not listening..." Gandalf pleaded, but could only watch as the Hobbit walked out of camp and into the trees. "I was hoping he would at least hear me out." the old wizard sighed.

Balin was rather fond of Gandalf and hated to see him this upset, but in this matter, he agreed with Bilbo completely. "What did you expect him to do? It would be like asking Thorin to give Smaug a hug and offer his nephews for lunch."

Most of the company had fallen into their bedrolls right after supper, too tired from the long day to tell stories or sing songs. They had covered a great distance today but Balin couldn't fault Thorin for pushing them. He had wanted to put as much distance between the House of Durin and that dreadful cave as possible. The old dwarf was unsure if trouble was following them, or if the company was blindly running towards it. This argument had made them forget their exhaustion for the moment.

"We have questions that need to be answered. If we don't go to Rivendell, then there is no point in continuing this quest. All we have is a map that we cannot read and a key to a hidden door. Lord Elrond can read many languages. If any of you have a better idea, then I shall hear it now!" Gandalf said.

The old dwarf looked around the campfire, waiting for someone to give another suggestion. Any other suggestion would be better than having Bilbo Baggins walk into Rivendell while Thorin Oakenshield asked the Hobbit's persecutor for help. The silence was almost deafening until the King began yelling.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it? What have the elves done for my people? Where were they when Erebor was taken by a dragon and Moria was overrun with Orcs? You call Bilbo Baggins your friend yet you would have us deliver him into harm's way! This company will not go near the Hidden Valley." Thorin declared, before the King marched off in the direction that Bilbo had traveled.

_You should have seen that coming, Gandalf._ Balin thought.

"I don't see why you can't go to Rivendell by yourself with the map, Mr. Gandalf. You know this Lord Elrond personally. He should translate the document for you. The rest of the company could meet up with you later" Dori said. His brothers began clapping him on the back for thinking up a way to keep all the dwarves away from the elves.

Gandalf froze, deep in thought. The old dwarf could not see any fault in that plan. They knew the way to Erebor, especially after the mass exodus when Smaug had attacked. Returning home was the easy part. The map was only to be used for finding the hidden door since all dwarven doors were invisible when closed. This could work.

Glancing up, Balin saw the eyes of every dwarf looking at him, waiting for his opinion. He felt overwhelmed for a moment with the respect that this company held for him. Whenever he saw his own reflection, all Balin could see was an old dwarf getting wider and weaker. But to this company, he had value again.

"Do you think Thorin will let Gandalf show the map to an elf?" Ori asked.

"Therein lies the only flaw with the plan. If any of us could convince our King to agree to this, it would be you, Brother." Dwalin said.

Balin regretted the respect that only moments before had humbled him. He hated dealing with tantrums. This promised to be quite the tantrum, too.

The map may have been indecipherable to the company, but it was still a precious heirloom that Thorin would never let out of his sight. It had not left Thorin's coat pocket, nestled with the key right next to his heart. Now, they were expecting Balin to convince the King Under the Mountain to trust Gandalf, letting a human take the map to an elf.

_Never let it be said that I am a coward._ Balin thought.

Gathering his courage, Balin nodded to the company before leaving camp in the direction of Bilbo and Thorin, swearing silently to punch Dori when he returned.

* * *

 

Dwarves were a proud race. Admitting weakness, let alone letting others see that weakness, was unacceptable. Bifur had no way of hiding the axe lodged in his forehead. All the wishing in the world would not change that fact. Though the axe had shattered every dream and hope in his life, he would never regret getting it. Never.

During the Battle of Azanulbizar, Bifur had been assigned to protect Prince Thrain. Sadly, there were more Orcs than rays of sunlight. Swinging his atlatl, Bifur could only block so many blades. No matter how many Orcs they killed, several more took their place.

Nothing could have prepared them for the death of the King. Thrain saw the head of his father fall to the ground and howled in agony. He lost all sense, unaware of the Orcs charging him.

Bifur saw the axe first. It was heading straight for Thrain. He would never forget the face of the Orc that threw it. The monstrous beast's image was there whenever Bifur shut his eyes. He yelled at Thrain to watch out, but the dwarf could not hear him. Forcing the blade of his atlatl into the ground, Bifur used it to vault over the line of Orcs around him and ran at the new king. He tackled the senseless dwarf. Time always seemed to slow down then, especially when Bifur relived this moment every night.

The axe was flipping through the air, blade over handle. There was a 50% chance that the handle would hit him. A wound like that would barely dent a dwarven forehead. After deflecting the blow, he would haul the King out of the battle, shielding the dwarf from any harm. Luck was never with him, however.

When the blade first pierced his skull, everything stopped in that second. He could not see, hear, or smell anything at all. The force of the hit sent him flying to the ground. After that, he heard screams, but only for a second. For a moment, he saw the sky before the darkness returned. His senses continued to turn on and off in this disorienting manner for days. It was months later that he truly woke.

The first conscious thought he had was not of the battle. He could not remember anything- his name, his family, the King, nothing. There was only a growing anticipation and fear that something should be happening. Only meditation, along with the constant support of his cousins, had helped Bifur agonizingly connect one thought, memory, and sensation to another. There were things that never reconnected, no matter how hard he tried.

_Please, let me wake from this nightmare_ he thought to himself whenever this happened for he still had moments when all of his senses and thoughts ground to a halt. The darkness and disorientation used to terrify him. Now, he was resigned to his fate.

Trying to wake from these moments was terribly difficult. He dreaded the day when he would not wake. It felt like Bifur was attempting to walk across a very powerful river. The water was so strong, and he would get more tired with each step.

He had no idea what happened outside of himself during these moments. According to Bombur, Bifur would sometimes appear to fall asleep in the middle of performing some other action. This was usually the best case scenario. These blackouts occurred without warning and could last for seconds or days.

Bifur, therefore, knew exactly how Bilbo Baggins felt about The Other. He knew how it felt to not remember going to sleep nor what would happen while asleep. The fear was the first conscious thought upon waking- fear that he had done something unforgivable or embarrassing. Dwarven pride was wounded easily. The deep shame would follow the fear like night followed day. How long was he supposed to endure this weakness? What was the point?

Listening now to the wizard explain how necessary it was for Bilbo to enter Rivendell, Bifur could feel his blood boil. If someone had asked him to visit the home of the Orc who had thrown that axe which ruined his life and left his King unprotected, Bifur would have thrown a tantrum.

The only reason he would ever consider it would be to murder the Orc responsible for it all. He would wipe out the Orcs' entire family if he could.

_If Bilbo is too squeamish, perhaps The Other could be convinced to kill Lord Elrond._ Bifur thought to himself. The Elf Lord deserved it for the excessive cruelty towards Bifur's new dwarfling. He knew that with absolute certainty and swore never to forget it.

* * *

 

Bofur knew that he whittled subconsciously when he was nervous. Bombur believed that his brother was in a trance during these times. Bofur simply believed his hat was whispering very quietly into his ears with instructions of what to make. He believed this so strongly that he never took the hat off.

The habit stemmed from the many weeks sitting by Bifur's bedside. He would sit there all day, watching for any sign that his cousin was going to return from the vegetative state that held him hostage. According to Bombur, who had kept vigil over them both, Bofur sat there humming a mournful song the entire day while his hands created thousands of toys, trinkets, and silverware. Poor Bombur, the lad was the only dwarf actually present in the room, despite Bofur and Bifur's presence. Thankfully, the dwarf had the good sense to sell all of Bofur's creations, which turned out to be instrumental for the family's survival.

Drifting off into that trance was dangerous, especially when traveling. He was, therefore, surprised to realize Balin had not yet returned from convincing Thorin to release the map to Gandalf. Wondering what had broken the trance, Bofur realized Kili was now sitting next to him in the space that had been vacant before.

"Yavanna's tits! What are those things you're making?" Kili said, bending down slightly to examine the three figurines that Bofur had created.

Holding one up to the firelight, Bofur and Kili both examined it closely. It was an exact replica of Gandalf! Bofur looked quickly between the real wizard and the figurine and could not tell the two apart.

"Wow, that is good work. Why Gandalf, though?" Kili asked as he reached for the next figurine.

"I'm not sure. I go into a trance when I whittle and have no control over what I make." Bofur said while noticing the second figurine matched the first exactly, except Gandalf was wearing a blue robe.

_That is odd. Why Gandalf, indeed?_ Bofur thought.

"Trance?" Kili asked.

Dwalin took the last figurine, examining the white-robed Gandalf before handing it back, saying "Used to happen to me when I was working in the forges of Erebor. The heat was sweltering and should have made it difficult to focus. Instead, I would get lost in the work as if someone else running the forge for me. Did my best work while in that trance."

Ori leaned over Dwalin's shoulder. He, too, seemed fascinated by the likeness of the Gandalf figurines. "The trance has been mentioned in several books that I read back home. It is the sign of a true craftsman. The soul is able to listen, in this case, to the wood and transform it into the shape it chooses to be."

Bofur noticed Kili's face fell slightly as he handed the mini-Gandalf back to him. "Alright, lad?" Bofur asked, placing a hand on the dwarfling's shoulder.

Kili smiled, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I'm fine, Mr. Bofur. It sounds like an amazing gift to have. Is there any chance you could make something besides Gandalf though?" The other dwarves laughed at the blush Bofur could feel spreading across his face, all the way to his ears.

"I told you that I have no control over what I whittle! Though you have to admit, it is strange that all three look exactly alike. I have never repeated any pattern before..." Bofur trailed off, staring at the figurines in confusion.

He had no recollection of thinking about the wizard in the last hour. In fact, he had no recollection of observing the wizard closely in order to create such an exact replica. It was eerie how much these figurines looked like Gandalf.

_I think I need to have a few words with my hat,_ Bofur thought to himself with a chuckle.

"Someone's coming!" Dori yelled from where he had been keeping watch. All the dwarves were armed and ready for battle in an instant. Bofur could hear Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin running back to camp from the other direction to the footsteps.

Multiple footsteps, running towards them at a fast pace. Bofur gripped the handle of his mattock tighter. Kili climbed the nearest tree in order to have a greater range and a more defensible position. Fili was at the bottom of the tree, ready to keep anyone from climbing it. The other dwarves also shifted positions, creating an impenetrable wall in front of the princes.

"Go invisible, Bilbo!" Thorin ordered.

"Blue light! Blue light! Gandalf!" a voice roared before a man appeared, clinging to a sled pulled by rabbits. All of the rabbits stopped abruptly at the sight of the Dwarven blades. Unprepared for the sudden stop, the unkempt man's chest hit the front of the sled hard before he collapsed backwards from the recoil.

"Radagast the Brown! At ease, all of you." Gandalf commanded, breaking formation as he strode forwards to help his friend. The dwarves relaxed slightly at the wizard's words but kept a close eye on the intruders.

While Bofur had listened a few days ago when Gandalf explained about the four other wizards in the world, the dwarf had always assumed they would look and act like Gandalf. This was certainly not the case with regards to Radagast the Brown.

The man was only slightly taller than a dwarf. He was unwashed and smelled as though he might actually be allergic to water and soap. There was a long trail of bird droppings down the right side of his face which only continued down his robes.

"Oh Gandalf, I am so glad I found you! That which we always feared has come to pass." Radagast gasped while clutching his aching chest. As the wizard got to his feet, his hat remained on the ground. Bifur gave a cry as the hat shook and started moving listlessly towards Radagast. Sharp, screeching noises were coming from the hat as the wizard bent down to pick it up and examine the inside.

"Sorry about that. We almost hit a wall of dwarves. Are you alright?" Radagast whispered to the hat. Dwalin and Thorin motioned for the dwarves to back away, never taking their eyes off the crazy wizard. This man was powerful and crazy, a deadly combination if Bofur had ever seen one. But he was more concerned with Bifur at the moment.

Bofur knew by the look on his cousin's face that something was wrong. He had seen that look many times. It occurred right before Bifur had one of his "moments". Thinking quickly, he motioned for Gloin to take his place. After making sure that the formation was still strong, Bofur moved behind the line of dwarves towards Bifur.

Before he reached his cousin, Bifur started yelling in Khuzdul about a voice that he heard. "Someone is in trouble! I can hear them asking for help. They are trapped."

Standing behind his cousin, Bofur carefully pulled Bifur's thumb back till the dwarf was forced to drop his atlatl. Bifur turned quickly on his cousin, growling a threat should he ever try that again. Bofur was about to wrap his cousin in a bear hug and drag the dwarf out of sight but was surprised to see Bifur focusing an angry glare at him. With a start, Bofur realized his cousin was not stuck in a memory as he had assumed.

_How can he hear voices if he is not having a flashback?_ Bofur wondered. This was a new symptom and an unwelcome one at that.

"Bofur, sitrep?" Thorin asked. Bofur had told the King, before signing the contract, about the dangers of bringing Bifur on this quest. While Thorin claimed to understand the risk, no one outside of the family had ever been witness to one of these flashbacks. Bofur wished it had stayed that way.

"Sitrep?" an invisible Bilbo asked Balin quietly.

"Situation report. It is faster and easier to say 'sitrep' when time is of the essence, especially in a dangerous situation." Balin whispered back to the Hobbit as the King motioned for the company to split focus between Bifur and the crazy human. They were ready should either attack.

Bofur could only shrug in confusion, "He is hearing a voice that is crying out for help, claiming to be trapped"

"Trapped? That is exactly what Sebastian was saying just now." Radagast exclaimed, looking inside the hat again.

Gandalf leaned closer to look into Radagast's hat too. "Is that what I think it is?" the Gray Wizard asked incredulously.

Reaching into his hat, Radagast's hand emerged with an eagle the size of a robin. Its claws were clutching tightly to the wizard's wrist. "Beorn found the egg a few weeks ago and asked me to care for him. One of my feathered friends roosted the egg. He has grown faster than any bird I have ever met. I named him after my dear friend who also has a fiery temper." Radagast explained. The eagle glared at the entire company before turning to tend to the feathers that had been ruffled by the fall.

"Sebastian, say something, anything." Radagast said, watching Bifur carefully. The little bird began cooing softly for a moment. Bifur started chuckling.

"What did you hear, Master Dwarf?" Gandalf asked Bifur.

"He said the inside of your hat needs to be cleaned." Bifur replied in Khuzdul which Bofur translated.

Radagast's face split into a huge grin. "Extraordinary! I have never met someone else who could understand the language of birds." The wizard began rubbing his hands together in glee. Sebastian, already upset with him, flew away from the wizard.

The bird circled the campsite twice, screeching softly. Bifur nodded and raised his arm. Sebastian landed gracefully on his outstretched arm. Bofur could only stare as the two of them began conversing about all sorts of topics.

_Perhaps this is not a bad symptom after all…_ Bofur thought. He nodded swiftly to Thorin, who turned his attention back to the wizards.

"Now that we have settled that matter, perhaps you can explain what you meant when you first saw Gandalf. What is this terrible event that you two always feared which has come to pass?" The King demanded.

* * *

 

Glomil watched as her son played with the toy Gloin had given him. It was bittersweet to know her husband was one of the proud few to join the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. She understood how much Oin would need his brother during the quest, but she silently wished he had stayed. Their little boy was growing so fast, Glomil feared that Gloin would miss all the important moments.

A large bang sounded from the room next door. The entire wall shook with the force of the impact.

_Table,_ Glomil thought to herself as the screaming continued. She smiled at Gimli who had stopped playing to glare at the door to the next room.

"Mama, what's wrong with Lady Dis?" he asked.

Chuckling, Glomil stroked her fingers through his hair gently. "Lady Dis received a letter from her brother. The other dwarves were mean to him. She is not happy with those dwarves." It was the simplest explanation for the horribly complicated issue of Dwarven politics. Another loud crash echoed from Lady Dis' room.

_Glass. I could have sworn I removed anything delicate before delivering that note. I wonder what she broke?_ Glomil thought. She was shocked to learn that the other clan's had abandoned Thorin. It terrified her to think her husband and dear Oin were going to be facing a dragon with so few.

Knowing her friend would throw a tantrum, Glomil had removed all delicate and valuable items from the room before handing the letter to Lady Dis.

"Oh, is she going to do something to those dwarves who were mean to her brother?" the little dwarf asked with growing excitement.

"Politicians always complicate things that should be simple. But don't worry. Those bad dwarves will regret the day they were born when we are done with them." Glomil promised.

Gimli nodded with a small grin and went back to playing with his toy. He stood when the door to the hallway opened suddenly, the doors crashing into the wall. The Guard Captain rushed into the room. Glomil could see by the expression on his face that it was bad news.

"What's wrong? Is it Fili or Kili?" Glomil asked. She heard the door to Lady Dis' room open quietly behind her.

"The hunting party has returned without young Fili and Kili"

Glomil gasped. The two had begged to join one of the hunting parties after their mother had refused to let them join Thorin's quest. They had been so dispirited that her friend had finally relented and let them go hunting instead.

"WHAT?" Lady Dis roared.

When she was not in the middle of a tantrum, Lady Dis was the most beautiful of all Dwarven Maidens. When angry, she was the scariest creature in all of Middle Earth. Glomil would have felt some sympathy for the Captain but her focus was on Gimli.

There was not a shred of fear on his face as the dwarfling watched Lady Dis yell. She hoped she would get a chance to tell Gloin about how brave their son was.

"They wanted me to give you this." the Captain said, as he handed Dis a letter.

_Mother-_

_Please read this through before cursing us. For years, Kili and I watched you and Uncle sacrifice everyday for us. You gave us your share of food when there was not enough in the house to keep a mouse alive. Uncle Thorin worked without rest for the humans as they mocked him._

_Those days when we were too young to understand the burden that Thorin carries for our people has passed. He cannot do this alone. We shall be there with him until the end._

_All our love,_

_Fili and Kili_

"There is more, I'm afraid. After meeting with the emissaries from the other clans, King Thorin was heading to the Shire to meet up with the company. We have received reports that Orcs are making their way to the Shire. They will attack the Halflings within a few days." he said in a rush.

All emotion left the face of Lady Dis. The Captain actually took a step back at the sudden transformation from protective mother bear to leader. She looked exactly like her brother then, except for her trademark blond hair.

"Ready our warriors. Bring the emissaries of the other clans to me." Lady Dis commanded.

Looking very uncomfortable, the Captain coughed once before saying, "My Lady, they refused to help your brother. It is unlikely that they are going to change their minds simply because you asked."

"They abandoned my brother. The line of Durin does not forgive nor will it forget."


	10. Lapis Lazuli

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Tolkien.

Onwards!

* * *

 

Lindir hummed as he prepared the tea, following Grandmother's recipe diligently. He had hoped to never need it again but life was unpredictable.

Carefully, he covered his mouth as he opened the vial. The powder inside had no smell or taste. Only a small pinch in the teacup should be enough. Making certain to seal the vial securely, Lindir placed a plate of biscuits and a jar of honey on the tray next to the tea.

Before lifting the tray, Lindir grabbed the two warmest cloaks that he owned and quickly wrapped one around his shoulders, for it was an unusually chilly night for summertime in Imladris. Only then, did he notice how badly his hands were trembling.

_Courage, Lindir! This has gone on for far too long already._ Lindir thought.

Carrying the tray, Lindir exited the Last Homely Home and turned west. Nodding to the guardsman, he walked along the shore of the river, towards the waterfall.

He coughed once, hoping to gain her attention. It was not wise to ever startle Lady Galadriel.

A few weeks ago, she would have sensed his approach the moment he left the house. She did not move. Sighing, Lindir knelt down beside her as she continued her three-day vigil next to the river.

After wrapping the second cloak around her thin shoulders, Lindir held out the teacup to her. "My Lady, you must eat. At the very least, drink the tea."

She still did not move, but she did speak- "It is so beautiful."

"Yes, the river has always brought a sense of peace to my mind."

Glancing down at the tea, she smiled. "Your Grandmother made this for me once. I had no idea you knew the recipe."

Lindir opened his mouth but no words escaped. She raised her hand and gently cupped his check.

"There are dark times ahead. But hope is immortal. It is the greatest blessing and the strongest weapon we have. Growing without water or food, it thrives in the most unlikely of places. You just need to have faith in order to see it" She turned back to keep vigil, only now with the teacup in hand.

With a start, Lindir realized that Lady Galadriel was not watching the river or the beautiful waterfall as he had originally assumed.

She was staring at a fixed point over the covered mound of dirt she had disturbed when her vigil began.

He squinted his eyes, trying to see what was so special about this one location. Slowly, he reached out his hand to touch the mound of dirt.

Moving his hand over the entire pile, he was startled when his arm hit _something_. The air above the ground shimmered for a moment.

Turning back to ask Lady Galadriel about it, he saw her lying on the ground with her eyes closed. The empty teacup had fallen from her relaxed hand.

"Guardsman! We need to get her inside to her room."

Draping the cloak more securely around her as the guard picked her up, Lindir whispered into her ear, "I'll wake you when you have regained your strength."

He watched the guard carry the precious Lady away before frowning at the mound of dirt. Lindir knew there was only one person left in Imladris who could shed some light on this situation.

As he approached Lady Arwen's room, he could hear Saruman was speaking to someone whose voice Lindir would know anywhere.

_Master Elrond has returned!_ he thought, rushing to the door. Lindir was about to push open the door when he heard something that made him pause and put his ear to the door instead.

"Her transformation is almost complete. Within two days, it will be irreversible." the Wizard said.

"In the future, she will be Queen over all Middle Earth. Only now, she will have a proper King." Elrond said, chuckling darkly before asking, "And the potion?"

"The potion is ready. It just needs to be added to the water supply feeding the Pipe-weed crops. No one will be the wiser. The Greenwood proved as much. With this potion, the business between us will finally be done."

Lindir heard Saruman gasp the last word; and the entire door shook suddenly as something was slammed into it.

Looking under the door, Lindir could see two sets of shoes: one facing the door while the other set of shoes was floating in midair, facing away from the door.

"You think sending the Elf Lord to Dol Guldur erases the damage you have caused in the past? Foolish human! Our Master will not be pleased with your impudence."

An involuntary gasp escaped Lindir. He had never heard Master Elrond's voice sound so menacing. Though the gasp was nearly silent, the two occupants inside the room were standing mere inches away.

The door was flung open to reveal Lord Elrond standing on the other side. Saruman was laying on the floor, as though he had been tossed aside.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Elrond said, glaring down at Lindir. Everything about this "Elrond" was wrong.

"Who, who are you?" Lindir stuttered.

He was about to run when he saw the prone form of Lady Arwen. Rooted to the spot, Lindir was trembling in fright. He never saw the spell coming towards him.

Agony exploded inside as he slammed into the floor. He struggled to remain awake but it was a losing battle. As he closed his eyes, Lindir heard voices getting louder as they approached.

"Impetuous whelp!" Lindir heard his own voice say, though he knew his lips had not moved.

"You fool! You must leave quickly before you are seen. Look at your shadow. The Mark is clear..."

* * *

 

The nightmare continued despite his struggle to break free.

He was standing on the shore of a river. Across the river, another elf was walking along the shore. Though the elf seemed familiar, a shadow crossed over, shrouding his face like a cloud blocking the sun.

Elrond was horrified as the Mallorn tree along the shore attacked the elf.

The nightmare had such a grip on his mind that it took several minutes to realize that it was over. He was finally awake. A disturbing dream, but just a dream all the same. Unfortunately, the real world was not any better.

"What am I doing in a prison cell?" Elrond muttered to himself.

"Bloody hell, I have answered that question seven times! I swear you are doing this on purpose." a gruff voice answered behind him.

_Angmar!_

Gathering what little of his strength and power remained, the elf turned quickly, fully prepared to attack the dead king. To his surprise, he saw a dead king, just not the one he was expecting.

"King Thrain!"

The old dwarf simply raised his one visible eyebrow while the purple cloud continued its grotesque dance of breathing.

"You know who I am, but the more important question is: do you know who you are?"

"I am Elrond, Lord of Imladris. We met before though it was a long time ago." Elrond answered haughtily.

"Judging by your tone, you're back to being insufferable. I almost prefer the frightened child from an hour ago, Half-Elven." Thrain sneered.

Flushing deeply in anger, Elrond lowered his head as he tried to control his temper. Almost no one alive today knew his full title. While he had nothing against the mortal race of Man, he had made the choice to be considered Elven all those years ago.

_This poor dwarf has experienced pain and grief beyond imagining. I must be patient and kind, regardless of how he acts._ Elrond knew he had to find away to work with this dwarf if they wanted to escape.

With his emotions finally under control, Elrond raised his head again, only to duck as a rock flew through the bars straight at his head.

"How dare you attack me?" Elrond roared, any illusions of calm evaporated.

The Dwarf King was glaring, the purple vapor that enabled his breathing was moving so fast that it was like watching a rolling storm cloud rush across the sky.

"I don't want or need your pity! The only one in this place that deserves it is the Hobbit down there." the Dwarf King yelled while pointing at the cell down the hall.

"I would never pity a...Wait, did you say Hobbit?"

The Dwarf looked disappointed at the abrupt end to their banter. Sighing, Thrain said, "Before that evil shade brought you here, he captured a Hobbit"

A cold sense of dread filled Elrond. He asked in a strangled voice, "You didn't happen to catch his name, did you?"

_Not Baggins, not Baggins, not Baggins..._ Elrond repeated the mantra in his head.

The Dwarf King scoffed, "Those silly creatures have ridiculous names. Bagner? No, Bagwin. No, that's not it either..." Thrain continued to mumble names.

"Baggins?" Elrond whispered.

The Dwarf stopped mumbling to stare suspiciously at him. "Now, how does an ungainly giant, like you, happen to know the name of that little Hobbit?"

"We have to get out of these cells and make certain it is him!" Elrond said, while gripping the bars of his cell with both hands and pulling with all of his might. The bars did not move at all.

"Oh, I've only been trapped here for centuries, but since _you_ need to get out..."

Ignoring the dwarf, Elrond started yelling, "Bilbo! Bilbo, answer me!"

"He can't hear you. The shade walked out of here days ago, the spitting image of the little creature. Besides, you're the only one who has ever survived that spell."

* * *

 

There was nothing unusual about the scroll. The outside was unmarked.

As a child, Fili had often wondered what was contained in the scroll that his mother hid under her pillow. She would check every night to make certain the scroll was still there with the seal unbroken.

The scroll was an unspoken secret in their family.

Fili could only imagine how livid his Uncle and Mother would be to see Nori reading the scroll now. The seal was unbroken. His dirty fingers leaving smudges on the outside of it. His lips moving as he read those sacred words that Fili had spent his whole life wanting to read.

From his place by camp, Fili was supposed to be keeping watch. The whole purpose of posting watch was to maintain constant vigilance. Thorin always said "The sooner a threat could be spotted, the sooner a threat could be thwarted." No matter how hard Fili tried, he could not keep from watching Nori with that scroll.

The dwarf in question was completely unaware of Fili's intense scrutiny, however. Nori was sitting high up in a tree. He, too, was supposed to be keeping first watch tonight, but not for an intruder. Thorin posted him there to keep an eye on the wizards.

Gandalf and Radagast sat back-to-back several paces from the campfire. Their eyes were closed. No sound did they make.

And yet, Thorin believed they were somehow communicating with each other. Occasionally, one of the wizards would nod or burst into laughter or snarl in anger. It was eerie to watch them. Fili could understand why they made his Uncle nervous enough to order Nori to covertly keep watch.

"Don't let Uncle see you."

Fili jumped as a voice whispered in his ear. His brother chuckled before ducking as Fili tried to punch him.

"Beg your pardon, Brother-of-mine. I am sorry to interrupt your study of Mr. Nori" Kili said, waggling his eyebrows.

Fili was tempted to punch his brother again. "I was just keeping watch since Nori is reading instead of watching the wizards." He pulled a whetstone out of his pocket.

Kili shoved him, laughing "If you were watching Ori, I might have believed you."

When Fili turned back to look at Nori, the scroll was nowhere in sight.

As if he sensed an audience, Nori suddenly turned to look at them. Fili looked away quickly, but Kili started waving with a silly grin on his face. Nori smirked before returning to wizard-watching.

"Better I caught you than Uncle. He would do something unpleasant to teach you a lesson."

"Yes, he might" Thorin said, startling both of them.

Turning around, Fili saw that Uncle Thorin was standing right behind them, glaring down his nose at them.

Patting Kili on the shoulder, Thorin smirked suddenly.

"Go replace Nori, Kili."

Kili moved quickly with a sympathetic glance at Fili. Thorin sat down in his place and held out his hand for the whetstone. The King Under the Mountain began examining all of Fili's daggers.

When Fili was younger, Thorin would sit with him just like this. His Uncle would teach Fili about maintaining all of his weapons before sleep every night.

Though he never said it, Fili knew this was a habit his Uncle had learned during the long journey after Smaug.

Nodding in approval, Thorin gave all of the daggers back to Fili before using the whetstone on the sword that had been in the troll's hoard.

"When your Mother was very young, not even as tall as my boot, she used to follow your Uncle Frerin and I everywhere." Thorin began.

Fili had never heard anyone speak about Uncle Frerin. Neither Thorin or Dis ever spoke of their childhood. Recognizing this as a rare opportunity, Fili leaned closer to catch every word.

"She would talk-nonstop. During our weapons training, she used to sing and dance. It was so distracting."

"I've never heard Mother sing."

"Be grateful, Nephew." Thorin smirked before continuing his story.

"We wanted one hour of silence. No annoying little dwarfling tagging along. It is not an excuse for what we did, but it is the reason we did it."

Shivering slightly, Fili glanced at his brother. Kili had managed to climb up to Nori's hiding spot. As he watched, Kili's head fell forward in sleep before startling awake again.

"We told her that we would count to twenty. The challenge was simple: find the best hiding place in Erebor. A place no one would ever think to look. If we found her, we threatened to change her name to Milksop."

"Milksop?"

"It means 'coward'. One of many names your grandfather, Thror, had for elves. She was outraged. Dis swore we would never find her." Thorin stopped suddenly. The whetstone lay forgotten in his hand as he stared into the campfire.

"We went to the training grounds as soon as she was out of sight. It was a few hours later as we were walking home that we remembered her. Searching everywhere, we could not find her. For the first time, I saw panic in Frerin's eyes."

Fili knew that his Mother had, indeed, been found. He and Kili were living proof. Despite that fact, he had to remind himself to breath evenly as he waited for Uncle to continue.

"All of the vendors in Erebor close before supper. While every dwarf was in the Great Hall eating a feast, the Sons of Thrain were running between storefronts, yelling for Dis. As Frerin was running past the tailor's shop, Nori's Father ran out. The two collided at full speed. Things happened rather quickly after that"

Balin approached them quietly. He bowed slightly to Thorin before speaking. "It is time for Second Watch. Shall we ask him?"

Fili followed Balin's gaze towards the Hobbit. The Other was gazing into the forest, looking extremely...bored.

"Wake Bofur, they can keep watch together. Let him know I will want a report after we break camp."

Balin nodded before waking Bofur. Thorin continued his story, but kept watch over Bofur and The Other while doing so.

"Your Mother was very small for a dwarfling. She had chosen to hide in a chest of clothes in the tailor shop. She fell asleep and was not awake when the tailor closed the lid and locked up for the night."

All of the color drained from Fili's face. A chest was a masterpiece of Dwarven ingenuity. All of them would seal when closed so that no bugs or water could ruin the contents. Air itself could not enter the chest when closed.

"What happened?" Fili asked.

"If Frerin and I had been a moment later, you and Kili would never have been born. She was turning blue by the time we got her out. Nori's Father, took care of her as we told him everything. How ironic, that she was quiet while we could not stop the words from spilling out."

Thorin stopped and turned to face Fili- his face was filled with pain. "I was afraid she would not wake up. Deep down, I knew we broke her. All of those times that I wished she would stop following us...I wanted her to wake up and yell or hit us, at least then I would know she was alright. Not dead. The silence was torture."

Fili had no idea what to say. It was his worst nightmare that his actions or inactions could harm Kili. He could not imagine life without his brother.

"It is the only time that I ever saw Frerin cry. Realizing how close Dis had come to dying, I couldn't breathe. Not only did we almost lose her, I was sure Thrain would kill us."

"What did Nori's father do to you after you explained?"

"Nothing. He told us the guilt and horror we felt at nearly killing your Mother would be more than enough punishment."

Fili cringed as he asked, "But what did Thrain do to you?"

"He hugged all three of us and did not let go for the longest time. The yelling came a few minutes later, but only after the hug. We were his kids. He would never harm us, regardless of how bad our mistake was." Thorin was quiet for a few minutes. He handed the whetstone back to Fili.

_This was the longest conversation I've ever had with Uncle_ , Fili mused. _And I am not even sure what we're really talking about._

"Uncle, why did you tell me this?"

"It was the first time that I realized my actions had consequences- the moment when I started to think about how everything I did would influence the lives of others."

Thorin looked intently at Fili for a moment before glancing at Kili.

His brother was sound asleep.

"You will face a moment like that, too. I know that you will be a great King someday. One who cares for his people and will do anything for them, even if no one knows about it. Your shoulders may bend under the strain, but they will not break. No Durin has ever been broken."

The King stood and stretched before reaching down to pat Fili on the shoulder. Fili looked away, unable to bear the look of understanding that crossed Thorin's face.

"A king's job is never done."

He watched as the King walked calmly to his bedroll.

Fili sat awake for a long time, keeping watch as his brother was sound asleep in the tree above the wizards.

* * *

 

Waking up every morning had been a unique experience for the past 5 years. Bilbo never knew what The Other did while asleep.

When traveling with Thorin's company, Bilbo assumed that the dwarves would not let The Other get into too much trouble.

Yawning, he was about to stretch, eyes still closed, when he was interrupted by a nervous whisper from his left.

"Bilbo, don't move!"

Bilbo snapped his mouth shut mid-yawn. His cheeks puffed out with the air that had yet to escape. Ears burning, Bilbo was about to breath out through his nose when he felt something very cold touch the very tip of said appendage.

Carefully, he squinted his eyes trying to see what it was.

With the fire behind it, all Bilbo could see was a small shadow standing very close to him.

"Don't worry, lad. So long as we do not scare it, he will not harm us." Balin said from across camp, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.

As the shadow moved away, Bilbo was finally able to exhale. Moving very slowly, the Hobbit sat up and opened his eyes.

He had been expecting a Warg, ferocious Orc, nasty Goblin, or something truly horrible. Nothing less would cause these stout warriors to be on edge. What he was not expecting was a tiny cat.

Bofur clapped his shoulder gently. "Are you alright, Bilbo?"

"I am perfectly fine. It's only a cat."

There were several gasps from the dwarves around camp. The tiny cat sensed the change in his surroundings and lifted its tail ominously.

"Shut it, you fools!" Thorin growled. The dwarves forced themselves to calm down as Ori patiently explained.

"That is definitely not a cat, Mr. Baggins. Notice the black body and the white stripe that starts from the top of his nose, all the way down his back and to the tip of his tail? It's a skunk!"

Looking closely at the cat in the light from the campfire, Bilbo could now see the white stripe clearly. While the Shire had quite a few cats, this skunk-creature was smaller.

Beady black eyes searched the camp for any threats. The dwarves, for the first time since Bilbo had met them, cowered and hid behind each other in attempt to escape its gaze. For some strange reason, they became more terrified when the skunk was not facing them.

"What is a skunk? You all look as though it is an assassin sent to kill you."

"You do not have them in the Shire?" Kili asked from his hiding place behind his Uncle.

"No, not to my knowledge. See here, what is all this...?" Bilbo was interrupted by a terrified squeak next to him.

Ori was deathly pale and trembling in absolute terror. "My bag! It is right next to my bag! Everything will be ruined."

Dwalin, the dwarf closest to the bag and skunk, crept very slowly towards the bag.

"Careful, Brother." Balin whispered, edging away from Dwalin.

Before Bilbo could ask what exactly they thought this skunk-creature was going to do, a menacing screech from above the camp startled everyone.

"Sebastian, no!" Thorin whispered at Sebastian, who was staring intently at the skunk.

After glaring at the King, the eagle took flight high into the sky. With daylight still some hours away, Bilbo was unable to keep track of the bird's movements.

The skunk was spinning around as if he could not decide who to bite first. Bilbo heard the creature start growling and flashing very sharp teeth. Its tail was raised, making it look as though it were dancing.

The dwarves began diving for cover. Bilbo was too shocked to move.

He could only stare as Thorin literally threw Kili behind a boulder. The poor dwarf landed with a pained whine. Bombur almost trampled Nori in his attempt to get away. It took only seconds for the entire camp to clear out until only a skunk and Hobbit remained. A wave of disappointment threatened to overwhelm him.

He had heard stories about the courage and prowess of the dwarven warriors. The same company that had charged three full grown trolls to save Fili were now scampering away from a tiny little creature!

Their weapons lay abandoned by the campfire as this tiny cat-like creature stopped spinning and continued its approach towards Ori's bag.

"No, no, no..." Ori continued to whimper as the skunk walked calmly towards the bag containing all of his precious writings.

Bilbo had seen quite enough of this nonsense. Standing up, Bilbo was about to go invisible when the skunk lifted its tail again, directly at the Hobbit.

Things happened very quickly in the next moment.

The creature twitched its tail.

In the next second, he opened his eyes to find that he was laying on the ground, being crushed to death as someone was lying on top of him, shielding him.

From his vantage point, Bilbo could barely see past a large hand that was on his face. The sleeve was keeping his nose covered. He was about to voice his concerns about being unable to breath when a strange, foul odor permeated the air _through_ the sleeve.

Holding his breath suddenly seemed like a very good idea.


	11. Larimar

Chapter 11 Larimar

A/N: There are a few expletives in this chapter, just giving a fair warning. Chapter 12 soon!

Disclaimer: This little story borrows the characters and ideas of Tolkien and remains an AU to all of the Tolkien -based media. There might be a tiny smidgen of influence from Psych, but only if you squint. As always, all spelling errors belong to me.

* * *

 

Days like this reminded Lady Dis of why she made Thorin deal with politics.

After all, she raised both Fili and Kili, a feat that required more patience and cunning than her brother had muscles, making her better suited to deal with crisis.

She should be the Queen Under the Mountain as a reward for dealing with the Line of Durin, especially Thorin and Cousin Dain.

Speaking of Dain, his voice was certainly piercing...

_"We've heard every possible reason to join your family in another one of its 'quests' to reclaim their home."_

She had been staring intently at the painting just behind Dain's head for the past 20 minutes, listening to the same mindless twaddle they used on Thorin.

Erebor's war room had been a grand room filled with many paintings, depicting heroic battles. That room was massive enough to hold an entire army. This room, in contrast, had one painting and a small table barely able to hold the ten dwarves sitting around it.

Between paying attention to Dain's rambling and looking at the painting, the painting was winning by a landslide.

_"Do you even remember what happened last time?"_

She loved how completely out-of-place that painting was in the war room. It did not depict any heroic battles or fighting of any kind.

_"How many of our kin died helping Thror reclaim Moria? It did not work! You would have an easier time counting the survivors!"_

The painter had an exceptional eye for detail. To this day, the kitchen of Erebor was her favorite place in all of Middle Earth. How she missed it!

There was the giant fireplace, with enough heat to rival the forges, surrounded by many well-worn pots and pans. A large, butcher-block table stood in front of it with pies of every kind imaginable. She could almost smell the delicious food.

_"Unlike Moria, we know the enemy will be there. It's a dragon! Do you need to see fire, again?_

There was a dwarf maiden standing by the table with a tiny dwarfling at each of her elbows. On all three faces, there was a sense of contentment, like nothing bad could ever happen. An innocence that was gone.

_"You have some nerve demanding to meet with the representatives of the seven clans after that brother of yours ran away."_

Glomil used to talk about those days in the kitchen, both of them watching Bombur's mother and all of that amazing food. She single-handedly fed every dwarf in Erebor for years. If only Smaug had not come...

_"We are fools just for agreeing to this meeting."_

Frerin made the painting as a present to her, right before they went to reclaim Moria. A "pre-victory" gift, he called it.

There was a sense of hope back then- hope that they would have a home again. Poor Frerin, he never saw the painting hanging upon the wall.

_"Are you even listening, Dis? You called this meeting and have sat there as still as stone. At least Thorin has enough decorum to pretend listening long enough to throw an insult or two."_

"When you start speaking, Dain, how is anyone to remain awake?" Dis said.

A few of the representatives chuckled before Dain's glare put a stop to that, "I've heard every word. If you had let me speak at the beginning, then you would know that I did not summon you here for Thorin's quest to reclaim Erebor."

"Why you little... What are we even doing here, then?" Dain asked, waving his arms in the air.

Finally, Dis looked at Dain. Her cousin had aged considerably over the years. His face was care-worn and hair cut disgracefully short. Like her brother, Dain wore his grief for all to see. A good leader never forgot.

"Well?" Dain roared. He always tried to be so intimidating but it only took a moment before he shifted nervously under Dis' intense scrutiny.

A knock at the door interrupted the silent battle of wills.

Glomil entered the room, walking swiftly to Dis' side. Nodding quickly to Dain and the representatives, she bent down to whisper into Dis' ear.

"They're here."

"Thank you, my friend. Well, Dain, you're right. This meeting was a complete waste of time. Please exit out the back door, if you would be so kind. My children need me. We're going home. "

The nervousness was gone and the rage had retuned tenfold.

 _Poor Dain_ , she thought. He's going to make himself sick if he continues like this. She followed Glomil towards the door.

"Wait, you're actually leaving _without_ telling us why you even summoned us here?"

Dis walked over to him and stopped behind his chair. Looking down into his face, she almost felt sorry for this. Almost.

With considerable force, she ripped the painting off the wall, making certain to damage the wall, and not the painting.

Shrieking, Dain flew out of his chair as small pieces of the wall started to fall on him. Hardly the boulders of which he was complaining.

"What is wrong with you!? That could have killed me."

Shrugging, Dis moved towards the door. Before leaving, she stared at each "noble" dwarf in the room.

" Anytime you want to join us, so long as you remember _who's_ in charge, you would be welcome."

Handing the painting to Glomil, Dis followed her out of the room.

She could hear Dain cursing and screaming through the closed door. The curses were getting more creative the longer he kept going.

"He's certainly increased his vocabulary since I last saw him." Glomil said with a smirk.

"I think he studies for the next time he sees Thorin. Dain hopes to out-smart him."

Dis smiled at her friend before noticing the pin on Glomil's green cloak. A pin she had not worn for decades. It was in the shape of a star which only a select few had earned the right to wear. Sometimes, it was easy for Dis to forget that her friend had only recently settled down to start a family.

"Will they help us?" Dis asked, nodding to the pin.

Both dwarves stepped outside, shielding their eyes against the bright sunlight, and headed towards the large caravan waiting for them.

Glomil sighed deeply. "The Rangers are scattered all over Middle Earth. It would take time for them to get to us."

Looking over the caravan, Lady Dis had a moment of doubt. These were not the warriors that traveled to Moria fighting for their home. Most of the dwarves in this caravan were not warriors at all.

Never before had so many female dwarves been gathered in one place. Banners from all seven houses stood proudly on the wagons.

Mothers chasing after little dwarflings. Grandmothers double checking the wagons to make certain that things were ready for the long journey. Interspersed between all of the crowd were warriors. Far too few for Dis' liking, but beggars can't be choosers.

When the Princess sent word that her children were in danger, these dwarves answered the call. Dis would not trade them for Dain and the nobility that hung on his every word. How long would it take for him to realize every female dwarf in all the seven kingdoms was following her to Erebor? There would be consequences for doing this, though.

Glomil placed a hand on her friend's arm. "When you add the Wizard Gandalf to the company of Thorin Oakenshield, the King of Stubbornness; there is nothing that will stop them. Erebor is waiting for us!"

With all eyes on her, Dis gave the word to move out. She was ready to bring her boys home. Their true home.

* * *

 

If only his ears would stop twitching. It was a nervous tick whenever something bad was about to happen, almost like Nori could hear trouble coming. He had hoped the "Skunk Incident" was it for the day. But his ears knew better.

Bifur's little eagle did good, though, finding this clearing, for them to make camp, with a roaring river nearby. No one would admit it, but they had all been running to stay upwind of their fearless leader.

Nori had never seen anyone take a skunk spray for someone else. Hell, if a skunk was choosing to spray either Dori or himself, he would push his brother forward and make a run for it. Ori too, for that matter, though he'd regret it later. A little.

This was why he had volunteered to keep watch over the ponies after the mad dash to find water. He needed time to think.

He would have to watch how the King and the Hobbit interacted. There could be some big money if he started a bet...

The other reason was sitting behind him, hopefully, keeping his eyes open.

"Can you get this knot out?" the dwarf sitting at his back asked, handing him a tangled string of yarn.

"Sure, I ...wait, please tell me that you're _not_ knitting when we're supposed to be watching the ponies?"

Nori turned to look over his shoulder at his brother, hoping he was wrong.

This was Ori's first time keeping watch. Clearly, his brother still did not grasp the concept of "keeping watch" since his fingers were tangled in yarn.

"Put the knitting away, you fool! If Thorin catches you doing that, he will kill you. Then, Dori will kill me. I'm too young to die, Brother."

Ori, to his surprise, glared back at him. "When Dwalin is keeping watch, he does not sit there and do nothing. Why just a few days ago, he was fixing Bombur's armor while being the only one on watch."

 _Where to begin..._ Nori thought incredulously.

He had to organize his thoughts carefully, for Ori was a dwarf of words, crafty little devil. Dori always assumed that Ori was the "good" brother, and yet, the little runt could find a loop-hole in any rule.

Nori couldn't be more proud of Ori, even when he had to outsmart the little bastard. This little game of theirs could last for days, but it was fun too.

"Well, for one thing, you don't have Mr. Dwalin's hearing."

Ori's fingers finally stopped as he turned to stare at Nori. "His hearing?"

Nodding sagely, Nori continued, "Balin has the sharpest eyes of any dwarf I know, but Dwalin has the sharpest _hearing_. I remember once he threw Grasper _at_ Thorin, killing a fly that was bothering him. Dwalin not only _heard_ Thorin mumbling about a fly, but also _heard_ the fly. Bam! Dead fly! There was never any hesitation or fear that he would hit the King. Don't you see? He keeps watch with his ears!"

Ori looked thoughtful for a moment before putting the yarn back in his pocket. Nori won this round. He smirked in satisfaction.

"Brother?"

"Yes, Ori?"

"Where are the ponies?"

* * *

 

The dwarves had been surprised to learn that neither wizard knew a spell to remove the smell of a skunk.

Why does everyone assume that magic is the answer to everything? Magic should be used sparingly, but Radagast was the only wizard who thought that way. Saruman used magic to do even the simplest of tasks. The two wizards couldn't be more different if they tried, however.

"Look what I found in the troll's cave." Gandalf repeated, bringing Radagast back to the issue at hand.

As Gandalf unwrapped the bundle to show him, Radagast couldn't help it if his mind wandered a little, again.

Talking with other people was always so taxing. Animals did not mind if he lost his train of thought, every now and then. It was a struggle to stay in the moment long enough, but for Gandalf, he would try.

"Trolls, Radagast, trolls." Gandalf said fiercely, "They've not been seen since the Dark Lord ruled the land. Monstrous beasts, roamed freely back then, sent to cause terror and spread trouble. Why now, after all this time?"

Glancing down, Radagast saw what had concerned his friend so greatly.

"Gandalf, this is not a blade of the living. It is from Dol Guldur." he whispered slowly.

There was nothing extraordinary about the blade, to the untrained eye. It was the feeling of dread that came over Radagast just being in its very presence that convinced him.

"Certainly not. It cannot be."

Radagast carefully took the blade from his friend, using a blue handkerchief to keep the cloth between himself and the blade. Even through the material, he could feel an overwhelming dread. How had his friend managed to carry it this far?

Muttering an apology to the flower beside him, Radagast tapped one of the petals with the tip of the small dagger. The effect was immediate.

Where a beautiful tulip had been a second ago, there was now a dead flower that crumbled under Gandalf's touch.

Visibly shaken, Gandalf said, "If the trolls came down from the North, then they couldn't have been to Dol Guldur. So how did they come by this?"

Radagast had no answer to that. Something was brewing, hidden in the shadows.

"If" he whispered. "or not if"

Gandalf tilted his head to the side, looking askance at his old friend.

"This blade is from Dol Guldur. Of that, we are certain. The trolls have not been seen for centuries. That we also know to be true. Where they came from, is the only question. We have no proof that the trolls came from the North. Did they find the blade or bring it here?"

Gandalf blinked. Radagast could almost see his thoughts swirling faster than a speck of dirt caught in a hurricane.

Shaking his head, he touched the tulip with his hand. The once-again vibrant little flower made its protest known quite loudly.

Of course, it was nothing compared to the furious scream the river gave when Thorin started to bathe. Gandalf should be grateful he did not understand half of what Radagast heard.

"I will ask Balin for the map. Hopefully, he has convinced that stubborn, royal fool to relinquish it. Ready your sled. Time is of the essence."

Even though he knew he should hurry, Radagast couldn't help feeling some sadness. It was so rare that he had the chance to travel with dwarves. They were good people who had a connection and understanding of Middle Earth that Radagast could only envy. A few days was not enough, but it would have to do.

Walking through the camp towards his hares, he caught small snippets of conversations. Surprisingly, the topic of every conversation was Bilbo Baggins.

Fili and Kili were busy sorting feathers from previous kills for making new arrows.

"Kili, Uncle will _kill_ us when he finds out that we sent Bilbo over there without letting him know the significance of washing another dwarf's clothes."

"Uncle will _thank_ us when he sees Bilbo washing his clothes, and then they will kiss, and then they will marry, and then..."

Radagast hid his chuckles with a cough as he continued through the camp. The King was going to kill them. If Bilbo did not kill them first, that is.

 _Oh, to be that young again_ Radagast though fondly.

He past Dori and Dwalin who were having a furious argument.

"He cannot walk to Erebor with bare feet!" Dori yelled, pushing the warrior, who was attempting to hold his temper and failing miserably.

"Don't you think I know that? What do you expect me to do, make clothes appear out of my arse so we can properly attire our Burglar for the road ahead?" Dwalin yelled back.

"Anything would be better than waiting till we are on the mountain. Those bare feet cannot scale the sharp rocks and uneven terrain. Unless, of course, you are planning on carrying him?"

"Hobbits have never worn boots. The souls of his feet are so sensitive! He's starting to give me strangest looks, wondering if I am trying to play a prank or seduce him!" Dwalin said, a slight blush tainting his checks.

 _These dwarves are going to drive little Bilbo crazy before they even reach a mountain. His life could do with a bit of excitement, but this might be too much._ Radagast thought ruefully.

Moving around the campfire, the wizard stopped in his tracks. He smelled the most wonderful stew. Perhaps Gandalf could be convinced to wait until after the meal?

"I think Ori was hoping that we would stop at Rivendell." Bombur said, stirring the stew slowly. "Bilbo said the library there is supposed to be the best in the world."

"Don't say that too loudly. The King would throw a tantrum if we had to deal with the elves. Not to mention the reception Mr. Baggins would receive." Gloin replied as he finished cleaning the turkey the boys had hunted.

"Indeed, Master Dwarf. The moment Bilbo steps foot on Elven lands is the moment they would attack. All of them at once." Radagast said, as he attempted to get a taste of the stew. Bombur swiftly smacked his hand with the spoon.

After a moment of shock, Radagast made a small apology to the cook. He was perfectly content to wait until Bombur was distracted.

There was something he was supposed to be doing but nothing could be as important as getting a taste of that marvelous stew.

"You exaggerate, Wizard. How would the elves know so quickly that Bilbo was in their midst? The Hobbit could go invisible and rob them blind"

"The Mark is the gift of the First Born, Mr. Gloin. Anyone who kills an elf bares the Mark as a red tint in their shadow. Only elves can see it; and they all know what it means. Why, the very magic in the land would alert them the instant someone bearing the Mark of an elf killer approached." Radagast said. He managed to steal a small bite of stew while Bombur and Gloin looked at each other worriedly. Delicious!

"Mr. Bilbo has never killed anyone in his life!" Bombur said, turning back to the wizard, then glancing suspiciously between the stew and the Wizard.

"Bilbo has not, but The Other has."

"Would Gandalf know about this Mark?" Bombur asked suddenly.

"Of course, he has been friends with many elves." Radagast said.

"If that is true, then why was Gandalf so adamant about bringing Bilbo to Rivendell?" Gloin wondered, staring at Gandalf.

"Why, indeed."

* * *

 

Surprisingly, the best method of getting rid of the smell of a skunk came from Radagast the Brown. Bilbo did not know how exactly the wizard could carry a bar of soap that strong and _not_ use it, but he was grateful all the same.

Sitting by the side of the river, Bilbo was using half of the bar of soap to clean Thorin's clothes. Finding the piece of soap sitting on Thorin's cloak, The King appeared to have cut the bar of soap earlier. The other half of the bar of soap was currently being used downstream by the King himself.

A strange fog had moved in around the river. Bilbo could almost believe that it was magic with how quickly the rest of the world seemed to disappear, until there was only himself and the river.

Whistling a song from his childhood, Bilbo set to work on the last garment yet to clean: Thorin's cloak.

So focused on his work, he did not hear the splashing getting closer. The sudden question startled Bilbo into looking at...

"Why are you washing my clothes, Bilbo? If Fili or Kili told you to do that, I will..."

Bilbo did not hear the rest of Thorin's rant. The sight before him took his breath away.

He quickly interrupted the King while averting his eyes, "No one told me to do this."

Silence answered Bilbo.

Clutching the skunk-sprayed cloak, he re-doubled his efforts to clean the awful stench out.

Anything was better than turning to face the silent King. Within the Hobbit, however, a mantra had started and was getting louder by the second.

_Don't look at Thorin! You are holding all of his clothes. Naked dwarf, naked dwarf, naked..._

"Then, why are you cleaning clothes that I could not wait to abandon?"

The splashing grew louder as Thorin walked towards Bilbo.

He froze as he heard the King leave the water.

Sensing the dwarf standing next to him, Bilbo flinched and shut his eyes tightly. The clothes were forgotten as he could feel himself start to breath faster.

"Do I frighten you, Little One?" Thorin asked. Though his voice held amusement, there was a hint of vulnerability to it that was quite foreign to what Bilbo knew of the King Under the Mountain.

With a gulp that sounded as loud as thunder to Bilbo, he answered, "You could never frighten me, Thorin."

"If it is not fear, then why are you shaking?"

"Naked Dwarf!" Bilbo blurted out. He could feel his face flush a deep scarlet. He scrunched his eyes closed, too ashamed to open them ever again.

_Well, now you've done it, Baggins!_

"I'm not, actually"

Bilbo actually opened his eyes at that. He knew for a fact that he had cleaned every scrap of clothing that had adorned the King, which still sat in the pile beside him.

"What?"

"I am still wearing my beads. 'Naked', to a dwarf, means no beads."

As Bilbo sputtered, trying to find a proper response to _that_ , Thorin walked behind him, trailing a finger from one shoulder, across his back to Bilbo's other shoulder. The Hobbit could not stop a small moan from escaping.

"Are Hobbits so prudish that the absence of clothes offends you?"

"Certainly not! Hobbits simply do not make a habit of walking around naked in public."

"Not naked, remember? I see only you and me here."

The mantra finally stopped. All thoughts, in fact, stopped. Bilbo could not, did not want to consider the full implications to that statement.

_What does a homeless burglar have to offer a dwarven king?_

Bilbo knew with absolute certainty that Thorin would get his home back. He would be a true king then.

No longer would he have time to waste on a hobbit-turned-dwarf whose only talent was stealing and turning invisible. Bilbo was too broken. By day a burglar, and by night, a sociopathic monster who was capable of anything.

He should never have agreed to come with them.

Damn that Wizard!

Either The Other would kill them all, or they would have to kill him. He could not handle either outcome, but there was no other way Bilbo saw this ending.

"Don't be afraid", a voice said softly beside him.

While the Hobbit was lost in thought, Thorin had dressed into all of his armor, except his fur cloak which Bilbo realized was still clutched tightly in his hands. The King was gently tugging on it.

"I'm sorry, Bilbo. My idiot nephews sent you out here, didn't they?"

Bilbo nearly snapped his neck as he looked at the King sharply. Thorin had a look of defeat and sadness on his face before he saw that Bilbo was staring at him. The King's face relaxed before a fake smile appeared.

"I did not mean to frighten you. In dwarven culture, when a dwarf washes another dwarf's clothes, it is a declaration of, well, wanting a courtship. Considering the state of my clothing, I thought it was a _very_ strong declaration. But there was no way you could have known that"

When Thorin saw that Bilbo was not going to respond, he turned to leave, but a hand on his arm stopped the King.

"I meant what I said, Thorin Oakenshield. You could never frighten me. But _I_ frighten me"

The King looked so confused, it was rather endearing.

Realizing the dwarf had started a conversation that would be too painful, Bilbo decided retreat was in order. Quickly, he turned invisible and started to walk back to camp.

Two strong arms encircled his invisible chest, dragging him into a hug. Keeping his eyes closed, Bilbo sagged against the King knowing he could not break the hold.

Thorin nuzzled against his hair for a minute before finding a pointed Hobbit ear.

"You cannot turn invisible and walk away from me. I won't let you." Thorin pulled back from the hug slightly to stare at where he assumed Bilbo's eyes were.

With a sigh, Bilbo turned visible again, but refused to meet the King's eyes. Instead, he looked over Thorin's shoulder at the other side of the river.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bilbo saw movement. A large beast with glowing red eyes had walked out of the fog towards the water's edge, starting to drink.

"Wolf" Bilbo whispered, quivering with fear.

The dwarf squeezed him tightly before turning his head to look. Bilbo barely managed to contain a squeak as the dwarf's hug turned painful.

"No, that's not a wolf," Thorin said quietly. "An Orc pack must be nearby. We have to warn the others but if we move, he will see us. Wargs sense motion."

Bilbo knew what he _had_ to do, but was unsure if he _could_ still do it. After all, it had been over a decade since he had tried this in tandem.

"Thorin, do you trust me?"

The King looked at him sharply for a second before nodding.

"Then, don't let me go. You will feel cold for a moment and a little dizzy, too."

His grandfather, the Old Took, had spent hours with Bilbo, training him on how to turn invisible. But the first lesson was always a bit scary. Looking down and not see arms and legs was disorienting. Every step was confusing, as one did not have visual confirmation of where the foot would go. Overtime, a Took gained the confidence needed to walk stealthily while invisible.

Bilbo took a deep breath. _I can do this. It has to work. Focus!_

Gradually, he could feel the cold start from the top of his head all the way down to the hair on his toes. The process usually took a few seconds, but not this time.

At every point of contact with Thorin, Bilbo felt a second of hesitation before the effect transferred over to the King.

* * *

 

Thorin gasped loudly as his body went cold, as cold as death. It was as if everything was shutting down. He began to tremble as he forced himself not to cry out.

The Warg, hearing Thorin, turned his head abruptly in their direction. For a second, it saw a pair of boots sitting by the river, but on second glance, there was nothing.

 _Nothing is going right today_ Thorin thought, trying to stay quiet.

Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see how the world changed when invisible. All of the colors disappeared; everything was varying shades of gray. Looking down, he realized that he could not see his body nor Bilbo's.

He had so many questions to ask Bilbo but the moment he opened his mouth, the Hobbit clamped a hand over it. Thorin could feel the Hobbit shaking his head. He had no idea how Bilbo even knew he was going to talk.

_Well, it answers one of my questions. Being invisible does not mean you are silent. Any noise we make will alert that Warg of our location._

While the King had been walking Middle Earth for centuries, all his experience meant nothing now. Thorin almost fell just lifting his left foot off the ground to take a step. It was as if he was walking on quicksand- the ground itself seemed to be moving under his right foot. Looking down did not help, as he had no idea where either foot was actually located without seeing it.

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the Warg on the opposite side of the river had acquired friends and lots of them, too.

The Wargs, however, were not a shade of gray; instead their bodies were glowing red. It contrasted so much with the landscape of gray.

Unfortunately, he could see several red glowing shapes swarming his company.

Moving as quickly as he could, being careful not to trip and land on Bilbo, Thorin finally got close enough to camp to see a strange blue bubble surrounding it. Within the bubble, there were a few blue-glowing figures moving rapidly between the red shapes.

He hesitated only a moment before crossing the edge of the bubble into the chaos.

* * *

 

Oin never heard it coming, which was to be expected, but he also never saw the attack coming, either. It came as quickly as the wind and the fog had moments before.

The camp was in chaos. Nori and Ori, who had been watching the ponies, were huddled against a boulder surrounded by Wargs. Dwalin and Bifur were trying to cut a path to save them, but the Wargs were overwhelming the company quickly.

"We're surrounded!" Dwalin bellowed to his brother.

Balin quickly looked around camp, "Where are Thorin and Bilbo?"

"They're still by the river. We have to help them." Fili yelled, stabbing a Warg that was sneaking up on Oin. The old dwarf had no time to thank him as another Warg took his place. Glancing across the camp, Oin could only spare a second to watch Radagast and Gandalf before continuing the fight.

The wizards were busy killing and casting numerous spells to keep the sound of battle from spreading out of the area. A large bubble of air surrounded the camp, holding the fog at bay.

With a fog this dense, Oin hoped the other Warg packs in the area would not join the fray. Kili was quick to shoot any stragglers that were attempting to escape and go for reinforcements.

"Well, That explains why the fog smells funny!" Radagast said, as he fell to one knee, letting a charging Warg fly over his head. "I don't think these blasted things are working alone. The fog is not natural."

Suddenly, the Wargs surrounding Nori and Ori fell. Dwalin and Bifur stopped fighting as the Wargs around them fell to the ground, too.

Dwalin turned quickly, seeming to track something moving, but Oin could not see anything.

The remaining Wargs were killed by this invisible force as Oin checked to make sure everyone was unharmed.

"I was wondering when my little Burglar would return." Gandalf said, looking at the same point Dwalin was starring at.

Thorin Oakenshield suddenly appeared, wielding the Elven-blade and carrying Bilbo on his shoulders.

Nori's eyes were wide. "You were invisible, Thorin! How did you-?"

"We have no time for explanations." Gandalf interrupted, "This Warg pack stumbled upon us, but I sense several others in the area. They will look for their missing pack."

"We should be grateful for the fog. If it had lifted, they would have found us sooner." Bofur said, as he watched Radagast the Brown checking on his hare friends.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Bofur." Radagast said, "the fog was somehow working with them. I could smell it"

A feeling of dread seemed to engulf them. The fog now seemed suffocating and menacing as it caged them in the clearing, hiding an army of Wargs.

Oin jumped as a large hand landed on his shoulder. Radagast the Brown stood behind him, studying him for a moment before smiling.

"I think you still have a few steps in you, Master Dwarf. Time for a Stone-walk." the old wizard whispered and then walked towards his sled.

All of the color drained from Oin's face as he realized what he would have to do.

* * *

 

Fili and Kili were watching Gandalf intently. The wizard had carved a hole into a large oak tree as Radagast cleared off his sled to fit the human.

The other dwarves were busy tying their hair and beards back so that nothing would catch during the Stone-Walk. To say that Kili was excited to finally Stone-Walk would be an understatement. He was so happy a giggle would escape him occasionally, but Fili was just as giddy so he did not feel so foolish.

In the ancient battles, Stonespeakers were not just healers. They could help coordinate powerful attacks, harnessing the power of Stone to their advantage. Though Kili had known Oin was a Stonespeaker, he had thought the dwarf too old to Stone-walk.

"You'll have five minutes to get out of here before this goes off." Gandalf said to Thorin as he fitted the whiz-popper into a tree.

Bilbo was right next to Gandalf, providing some herbs to the wizard to enhance the effect. Kili watched in amazement as Bilbo's eyes suddenly went dark.

The Other reached into Gandalf's pocket and removed a dagger wrapped with a blue cloth. Seeing Kili watching him, The Other winked as he placed the dagger into the small pouch that held Bilbo's herbs.

As soon as Bilbo was finished, Fili grabbed the Hobbit and pulled him between both of them. Kili was slightly disappointed to see Bilbo's brown eyes glaring at Fili, especially after he gave an (adorable) embarrassed squeak. It would not be till nightfall that Kili could ask what The Other had stolen from Gandalf.

Thorin turned quickly at Bilbo's squeak of surprise. Once the King saw the Hobbit safely between his nephews, he glared once before turning back to question the wizard.

"Let me see if I understand this. You and Radagast are going to abandon us to an army of Wargs, riding away on his sled..." Thorin began.

"Leading some of the Warg packs away, Thorin, giving you time to escape this magic bubble before the whiz-popper goes off. You don't want to be anywhere near here when that happens." Gandalf finished, looking crossly at the Dwarf King.

Kili turned to Bilbo, noticing the Hobbit was starring at their hoods and covered beards. "We are tying back our hair and beard so we do not pull it out when we Stone-Walk."

"What is Stone-Walking?" Bilbo asked.

Fili and Kili both shushed him until Gandalf walked over towards the sled and out of hearing range.

"Dwarves received a gift from Mahal, knowing that his children would be miners. The back of every dwarf is made of a hard shell. It is impenetrable. " Fili started.

"Shell? You have a shell like a turtle?" Bilbo asked, pushing Kili forward and trying to look down his shirt. He could hear Fili chuckling as Kili tried not to laugh at the tickling Hobbit fingers.

"It looks like a normal back, but just below the skin, there is a layer of stone. We cannot be stabbed in the back, shot by an arrow, or break our bones if we fall from any height and land on our backs." Kili said between giggles. He was about to ask the Hobbit to stop when he saw the smirk on Bilbo's face.

 _I think Uncle is right. We are a bad influence on Bilbo._ Kili thought.

"Bifur once told us how miners in Erebor used to fall from the top of the mountain all the way down and walk away completely unharmed." Fili said as he finally had mercy on Kili and pulled the Hobbits' fingers away.

"How does that relate to Stone-Walking?"

Kili adjusted his shirt, glaring at his brother before answering, "Stone-Walking is a formation where the entire company forms a giant dwarf ball, with our backs as the outer shell, interlocking our arms and legs. A Stone-Speaker is needed as the Stone itself directs the formation. Communication between the Stonespeaker and the Stone needs to be absolute or there will be no movement whatsoever"

"We are going to crush the Wargs, like a boulder rolling down a mountain." Fili said.

All three of them turned to look at Oin. The Stonespeaker had his eyes closed, clutching his brother's hand, and muttering under his breath.

"Let's go! Time is against us!" Thorin roared from the other side of camp.

Radagast, with Gandalf secured to his sleigh, sent his Rhosgobel rabbits into a frenzy. The sled past the bubble and the sound of several Warg packs attacking could be heard.

Thorin called all of the dwarves to stand in a circle. Kili picked Bilbo up and Fili quickly used both of their belts to secure the Hobbit to his chest.

"Hold onto the front of my shirt." Kili whispered, " I will need my arms and legs to keep in the circle. You have nothing to worry about, Uncle Bilbo."

" _Uncle_ Bilbo?"

Instead of answering, Kili connected arms with Fili and Nori.

_Silly Hobbit! He thinks I don't know about him and Uncle._

A laugh escaped him as the ground underneath them rose. The ground enclosed the entire company for a moment as they all connected their arms and legs.

With a grunt from Oin, the ground fell away and the formation started moving fast. The old Stonespeaker was visibly straining to guide them to the nearest safety.

The fog obscured whatever it was they were crushing on their way, but the sound of several Orcs and Wargs being crushed was a gleeful sound to the dwarves.

Poor Bilbo was finding nothing about this very gleeful. His fingers were turning white from clutching Kili's shirt so tightly. Instead of laughter, he was alternately crying and looking nauseous. The last put a severe damper on Kili's joy of Stone-Walking. He was a sympathetic-vomitter. This was going to be messy, especially in such close quarters.

In a matter of seconds, the ground opened up beneath them. Oin yelled, "Let go!"

A loud explosion shook the ground around them. Despite the tremendous force, the ground closed over their heads, protecting them from whatever mayhem Gandalf had unleashed.

Kili joined Bilbo in screaming as all of them fell into a cave. He twisted so that Bilbo wouldn't be crushed by the landing. For the first time in his life, Kili was grateful he did not have a beard when strong little Hobbit fingers ripped the front of his shirt.

Oin lay unconscious and unmoving. Balin and Gloin were busy checking on him. As excited as Kili had been to Stone-Walk, he had no idea how much Oin would be affected. Kili, still hugging Bilbo to him, sat near the old Stonespeaker, hoping he would wake soon.

"There is a path. Do we follow it?" Dwalin yelled from up ahead.

"Of course we follow it!" Bofur yelled back.

* * *

 

"Tom," Elladan was surprised to hear fear in his brother's voice, "what is that?"

After Tom and Fatty Lumpkin saved them from Orcs, the Sons of Elrond had an uneventful journey over the plains of the Lone Lands. No Orcs would go near them with Tom nearby. Elladan should have known the calm would not last.

Following where Elrohir was pointing behind them, Elladan could see a dark cloud engulfing the land at an alarming rate. He had never seen a fog so dense, moving so quickly.

"I have never seen clouds behave like that." Elrohir said.

 _"Unfortunately, that is not a cloud._  
 _It hides an army, like a shroud"_ Tom said in his sing-song voice.

Elladan blinked at Elrohir before turning back to stare. Even after a full day of traveling with Tom, it took both of them a moment to translate what he was trying to say.

"Army?" Elladan whispered.

Staring intently at the dark fog heading towards them at an alarming rate, Elladan could see shapes moving in the fog.

A hoof beating loudly in the ground startled him.

Both Tom and Elrohir were sitting on the back of Fatty Lumpkin.

"We need to leave, now!"

Climbing up behind his brother, Elladan had to hold on as Fatty Lumpkin took off at break-neck speed.

"How is he able to run this fast with all of us?"

Tom mumbled something but Elladan could not hear him over the wind.

Looking behind them, Elladan watched in amazement as 14 ponies and a horse broke through the fog, desperately trying to reach them. All of them had supplies and gear strapped to their backs. The whites of their eyes were showing. They looked as terrified as Elladan felt as the fog quickly enveloped the makeshift company.

The sound of an explosion to their right had all of them stumbling left.

As quickly as the fog appeared, it rescinded from the land, towards where the explosion had come from, like the tide moving away from the shore.

In its wake, the disappearing cloud revealed hundreds of Orc packs. Elladan had never seen so many Orcs, and especially not so near to Imladris.

 _There are not enough elves in the world to stop an army this size,_ he thought, fearing for his people.

The dark fog did not disappear, however. It reformed into the shape of a large dragon. With a primal scream, the fog dragon flew at the Orc packs.

As it approached them, Elladan could only watch as his brother started to kick at Fatty Lumpkin's side, urging the horse to run. But the horse did not move. Fourteen ponies and the horse from that lost company stood behind Fatty Lumpkin, shivering with fright.

Tom Bombadil pointed his finger at the fog dragon flying towards them. The fog dissipated a moment before it would have overtaken the tip of his finger.

The bodies of hundreds of Orcs lay on the ground, not dead, but badly startled. Some were running around screaming and tripping over their fallen comrades. Others were sitting on the ground, starring at the spot where the dragon had last been seen.

 _"Ostentatious bastard, the Grey Wizard is._  
 _The blame for her waking is all his."_   Tom said calmly, before turning their equine-misfits towards Imladris.

* * *

 

Deep within the Lonely Mountain, something that has slept for decades woke at the sound of the fog dragon's roar.


	12. Copper

Disclaimer: This very Hobbity chapter includes Tolkien's characters. They just dance for me.

Onwards!

* * *

 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Primula stopped watching Sam and Frodo chasing each other in the Vineyard.

While washing the dishes, she had heard the children laughing and just had to look out the window. There was no sound as sweet as a child laughing. They had so much energy, just watching the ten year olds made her feel tired.

"Who could that be?" she wondered. Sam was not to go home till tomorrow so it couldn't be his dad.

Opening the door, she barely held back a sigh.

"Good Evening, Primula, dear. Mind if I come in? We need to talk."

" Of course, Lobelia. Please, come in. Would you like some tea?"

Dressed in the latest fashion, the mayor's assistant walked through the door with a barely concealed look of disgust. "No, no dear. I would not want to impose."

Primula poured her an iced tea anyway before sitting down at the table, offering her guest a chair. Brushing off the seat before sitting, Lobelia sighed as she pulled a scroll out of her pocket. The seal was unbroken.

"I don't usually do this. You know that I hate to interfere and intrude. But this came across the Mayor's desk yesterday. As you know, taxes were due a few weeks ago for every Hobbit in the Shire. It has only recently come to our attention that one Hobbit has not paid taxes for a few years."

Primula turned pale. The laws had changed after the Old Took died. There were dire consequences for any landowner who failed to pay the tax. Ever since Hobbits started trading with the Men from Bree, the Shire had been changing. For centuries, the Shire used a barter system for all business transactions. Those were the good days that only existed in memory now.

"Who did not pay?"

"Bilbo Baggins"

"But, but he was imprisoned by the elves!"

Lobelia sighed dramatically, "He is no longer imprisoned, is he?"

Sputtering, Primula was speechless.

"I'm afraid there is more, dear." Lobelia said, reaching across the table to hold Primula's hand in a comforting gesture.

 _Her hands are freezing and shaking._ Primula thought, squeezing her hand.

"Did you know the Old Took did not officially divide his properties? Everything that was left to Belladonna Baggins has also been left to Bilbo. He gave you this house and the vineyard, did he not?"

"Why, yes. When I married Drogo, Bilbo was so generous." Primula could feel the dull pain in her heart whenever she thought of her late husband.

"Dear, didn't you know? Bilbo left everything to you. His will took effect the moment he could not pay his taxes the first year. He could have declared himself alive and saved you this trouble, but alas, he did not."

Yanking her hand back, Primula stood with hands clenched into tight fists at her side. "What exactly are you saying?", she yelled.

"Now, there is no need to get upset, Dear. I am here to help you. I kept this scroll from reaching the Mayor, but it's only a matter of time before he knows. But don't worry! My little Lotho has been doing business in Bree and has quite a bit of money."

Slowly, Primula sat back down with an epiphany.

She had heard rumors of Lobelia 'helping' farmers all across the Shire. No one could figure out why several of them had signed over their lands to her. Once she was in charge, farmers were forced to follow her rules. They were overworked and underfed. Whole families that were once prosperous were now near poverty while Lobelia became richer.

 _This is how she did it! She forced those farmers to sign over their land._ Primula thought.

"Show me the scroll."

"Dear, it's all in the old language of legal-speak. You wouldn't understand it."

Reaching across the table, Primula made a grab for the scroll. Lobelia grasped it tightly.

"Let go!"

"You let go! How dare you come here and try to trick me!"

There was a small blur that hit Lobelia in the shin. Sam held a heavy stick in his hand and was hitting Lobelia's legs with it.

"Stop it, you little miscreant! I'll...Ah!" she screamed as Frodo jumped on her back, yelling loudly in her ear.

"Give Mama the scroll, you mean, Old Pooper!"

"I'm not signing anything." Primula yelled as Lobelia finally let go of the scroll. Falling backwards, Primula landed hard. Feeling a bit dazed, she could only watch in horror as Lobelia reached behind her and threw Frodo to the ground and then raised her hand to hit Sam.

Primula had never moved so fast in all her life. She tackled Lobelia, knocking both adults onto the table, breaking it in two. Tossing the scroll to Sam, Primula grabbed Lobelia's hair in a tight fist.

"Run! Get Frodo out of here!" she yelled "Don't let him out of your sight, Sam."

* * *

 

"The dragon is gone." Radagast yelled to him as Wargs continued to run at them from all sides. Moving at full speed, the Rhosgobel rabbits were dodging the snapping jaws that surrounded them. They were almost to the border of the Hidden Valley.

Gandalf, with some difficulty, managed to turn around in the sled to look behind them. The dragon was actually an experimental whiz popper. A bit more magic than he usually put in them.

"Where did it go?" he yelled back to Radagast. He was about to turn forwards again until he saw a large White Warg.

"Rada-" was all he managed before the beast jumped onto Radagast's back.

The creature was busy trying to tear him apart as Radagast flailed, wildly throwing spells over his shoulder. It was quickly dodging them just as fast as Radagast could cast them.

A shadow fell on the sled as the rabbits ran under a large boulder into a cave. Several Wargs whimpered as they missed the cave opening, running face first into the rock. There was a light up ahead, though.

 _It's a tunnel,_ Gandalf thought glancing forward. He was about to turn back to help Radagast when he noticed the ceiling of the tunnel. It was getting lower and lower. The sled would make it, but Radagast was standing taller than the sled. He knew the other wizard was too distracted to have noticed it yet.

With a yell, Radagast finally flung the Warg to the side. As the creature fell, it crashed into the cave wall and bounced back towards the sled, landing near the rabbits. Poor rabbit never knew what happened as the jaws snapped closed around it. The sled jack-knifed, sending both Wizards flying out of the tunnel.

Gandalf landed hard on his right arm, trying to brace his fall. A snapping noise preceded the pain, black dots dancing across his vision. Looking around, all he could see were Wargs charging him.

The White Warg that attacked Radagast circled around him, snarling menacingly. He braced himself as it charged. A blast of wind tossed all the Wargs back.

"No!" Radagast shouted before chanting, his shoulder bleeding profusely.

* * *

 

"Oh Frodo." was all Sam could think of saying as they ran away.

"We need to find someone who can read this." Frodo said breathless from running. "Whatever this says is important."

"The only one who knows how to read is Pippin." Sam said, turning towards Farmer Maggot's farm.

Since it was past dinnertime, Merry and Pippin should be heading home by now. While most 10 year old Hobbitlings were never late for dinner, those two had figured out the best time to 'acquire' Farmer Maggot's vegetables was when the old farmer was distracted with supper. It usually meant being sent to bed without supper as punishment. Sam felt bad for their poor mothers who never realized they were already full by then.

On the border between the Vineyard and Maggot Farm, the path was lined with apple trees as a natural fence. Sam thought it was the most peaceful place in all the Shire. When he was not with his Pa or Frodo, he usually sat here and watched the clouds go by.

A growling noise stopped Sam in his tracks. They squinted their eyes but couldn't see what had made the sound in the light of the crescent moon.

After a second growl, Sam knew the sound was coming from one of the trees up ahead. Grasping his walking stick tightly in his hand, Sam stepped in front of Frodo, yelling loudly, "Show yourself!"

From behind them, he heard _very_ familiar giggling. His face turned bright red as he realized who was responsible.

"Merry! Stop your tummy-talk this instant!"

Meriadoc Brandybuck had a rare gift. He could talk without moving his mouth, to both his and Pippin's great amusement. The rascal used this gift to lead poor Farmer Maggot on a wild goose chase through the corn field as he projected his voice everywhere but where the two were actually located.

This 'tummy-talk', as Merry called it, had also been the bane of poor Sam's existence as Merry never failed to tease him.

"Look at his face, Pip! He was really scared that time." Merry chortled as both Hobbitlings stepped onto the path.

Pippin, seeing Mount Sam about to explode, started talking fast, "Now, Sam. There is no need to be getting mad. It's not like this is the first time Merry has done this. There was yesterday by the well-"

"This morning when you were gardening with your Pa. Everytime you dug the spade in the ground and it made a squishy sound-"

"That was you! I knew it" Sam shouted, running at Merry and tickling him in revenge.

"Sam, stop. We were looking for you both." Frodo said, handing the scroll to Pip.

Out of all the little Hobbitlings, Pippin's mother, being a teacher, had decided that writing lines was a far greater punishment for Pippin. Having to stand still and write words over and over again was the complete opposite of fun. And yet, it also taught Pippin how to read faster than most Hobbitlings his age.

After explaining what the Old Pooper had tried to do, Pippin broke the seal on the scroll. He moved under one of the lanterns that were scattered on the path to see it better. The other three tried to wait patiently as Pippin read.

When he finally looked up from the scroll, Pippin looked very pale. "She wanted everything, Frodo. Your Ma and Bilbo would have lost everything, including you."

"Me?" Frodo asked the same time that Sam said, "The Old Pooper said it was about taxes!"

Pippin looked confused for a moment, "Taxes? There's nothing in here about taxes. Everything produced by the farm would go to Bree."

"What if the Old Pooper hurt Mama?" Frodo cried. "If she could do this, there's no telling what she could do."

A sudden growl had all four Hobbitlings turning.

"Merry, was that you?"

"No, Sam. My tummy didn't say a thing." Merry's voice was small and quivering. Sam, unfortunately, believed him.

Another growl followed, only it was much closer. From under an apple tree, glowing red eyes looked at them.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but another growl had all of them turning around. There was a very large shadow moving towards them with the same red eyes.

Frodo pushed everyone to the ground as the first one lunged at them. Sam ignored the pain of having Merry and Pip land on him as Frodo screamed.

A strong jaw with vicious teeth was clamped tightly to Frodo's arm.

* * *

 

"Wake up! Mellon, we need to leave here " a voice whispered into Legolas' ear.

The darkness was beckoning him again when the voice returned with hands shaking him. His head was flopping back and forth painfully, "Don't make me carry you and kill all these spiders. Think of all the fun you'll miss."

"You can't have fun without me" Legolas groaned.

Opening his eyes, he saw Tauriel kneeling next to him. She quickly covered his mouth with her hand and turned to look down the tunnel which was covered from top to bottom with cobwebs. He tried to remember what happened, but there were only flashes of memories.

_"I think this is their nest!"_

_"Run!"_

_A large spider wrapping him in a cocoon before dragging him away. His bow, a gift from his Grandfather, left in the web as the spider moved away with its prize._

_Scuttling noises coming from the top branches of the trees and then... Nothing._

"What happened?"

"We must keep our voices down. Sound travels a great distance in these tunnels. They will return if they hear us."

There was a wild and frightened look in her eyes. Legolas couldn't recall a time when he had seen anything but a confident, snide humor in those eyes. Bits of cobwebs clung to her clothes, which were dirty and torn.

Standing was a bad idea. His legs began shaking and threatened to send him back to the ground. Tauriel leaned him against the cave wall before whispering a report to him.

"The poison will pass quickly. Give yourself a moment. The spiders attacked the other group. We heard their horns and ran to give aid. There were too many of them. They dragged us in here. It's their nest."

"Where is everyone else?" Legolas asked. He closed his eyes at the look she gave him.

_Father, forgive me. They did not deserve this._

Slowly, they made their way back towards the end of the tunnel. It was a guessing game trying to decide on a direction, trying to move through the spider webs, never knowing if the enemy was around the next corner.

Finally, there was a light up ahead. He should have known luck wasn't with them. Right as they exited the cave, several spiders were trying to get in.

The spiders all froze for a moment, some of them stopping mid-step with their legs hanging in the air.

"Run" Tauriel roared.

Dashing through the forest as fast as they could, the only thought Legolas had was to run faster. So focused on running, he didn't notice the cliff until it was too late.

"Mellon!" Tauriel screamed as she watched him fall.

He was saved as something wrapped around his waist.

A deep voice behind him said, "The world continues to move when you're in your shell, silly turtle."

_Turtle?!_

* * *

 

Farmer Maggot sat on the bench outside his house, smoking Old Toby before heading to bed. He usually went to bed early so he could wake up early. A farmer's life was the life for him.

His dogs sat at his feet. Grip, Fang, and Wolf were each the size of a small pony. They were good boys. Most of the Shire was terrified of them, but that was perfectly fine with him. It meant they left him alone. People were trouble, especially those Tooks.

Finishing his smoke, he whistled once. His boys immediately jumped up, ready to go inside, but Grip stopped. His ears were twitching as he listened to something in the distance.

"What is it, boy?"

Standing still for a moment, he waited to see if he could hear what Grip heard. The sound of a child crying came from behind him. From out of his corn field, three Hobbitling ran towards him, gently carrying another tiny Hobbitling. There was a trail of blood following them.

"What happened?" he said, as the kids got closer. He recognized each of them from all the times he had chased them out of his fields, but this was too serious to hold onto that familiar grudge.

Several growls came from the direction of the blood trail, causing all three dogs to raise their hackles and growl. His blood ran cold, knowing instantly what monsters were coming.

"Go around to my cellar, hide until I call for you. Grip, Fang, Wolf: protect them."

Grip and Wolf started to herd the children towards the cellar. Fang, however, stood his ground. The dog had always stayed by his side and was as stubborn as his master.

"Fang, go!" he yelled, pointing towards the children. The dog turned to look at him, judging whether or not he wanted to follow that order. Of all his dogs, this was the smartest of the bunch. A little too smart sometimes.

"Trust me, you foolish creature." he said. "I know what I'm doing"

Finally, the dog moved to join the others guarding the children.

Coming from a long line of farmers, he knew this was the only way. It was a tried and true method for dealing with Wargs. It broke his heart, though.

As the foul beasts got closer, he flushed the irrigation lines with the accelerant. The sound of the corn field being watered had always held such joy. It was the sound of life growing. Now it filled him with fear and dread.

Using a flint, looking down at the flame, he sighed.

"Die, you filthy beasts!" he yelled, setting his crop ablaze, signaling to the rest of the Shire that the enemy was here.

* * *

 

Uproarious laughter could be heard all around the Prancing Pony. Bill Ferny was the drunkest of all his men, celebrating his good fortune by buying another round.

Two months ago, it only took a few ales to get little Lotho Sacksville-Baggins drunk enough to bet his farm. A soon-to-be monopoly was born. Bill was now the owner of six of the major pipe-weed farms in the Shire. The sooner Lotho's mother secured the Baggins' Vineyard, the sooner the next part of his plan could come to fruition: the mead industry takeover.

 _A new monopoly in the making,_ he thought with a smile.

Lobelia was so determined to get her "kidnapped" little boy back that she never realized her son had not been kidnapped. It was Lotho's idea to demand the farms as ransom. Out of all his bandits, that Hobbit was turning out to be his best. Pity he was not here to share in the celebrations.

 _I wonder why Ole' Sharkey needed a Hobbit?_ Bill wondered. Stretching his arms behind him to fix a kink in his back, the bandit-leader-turned-businessman was not too worried as most of the men Sharkey borrowed returned unharmed, full of outrageous stories. He was just curious to see what the runt would think up next. Absolutely ruthless, that Hobbit is.

"Speak of the devil" Bill mumbled as Sharkey entered the inn. The distinctive white robe was luminescent as the man easily slipped past all the drunken louts. His beady black eyes searched the bandits until they fell on Bill.

"We need to talk, privately."

"Sure, Sharkey." Bill slurred, leading him away from the rambunctious celebration towards a small private room used for political meetings. They were quiet as the innkeeper started a quick fire in the unused room.

As soon as the man left, Sharkey started " I have a job for you."

"I'm listening."

Handing Bill a scroll, Sharkey sat down on a nearby chair and prepared his pipe. The smell of Old Toby filled the air as Bill tried to figure out how to read the blasted thing. It was a mangled piece of parchment with odd writing. He had never seen this language before, but he shivered whenever he touched the scroll. "What is this?", he finally asked.

"Promise of payment."

Bill resisted the urge to sigh. Any conversations with this old man was a game of questions and riddles. "For what?"

"The head of Thorin Oakenshield." Sharkey said.

After a moment of consideration, Bill threw the scroll into the fire. Sharkey jumped up, looking outraged.

"Do you know how many guards a King has, especially if he knows there's a bounty on his head?"

Sometimes, like this, Bill was just drunk enough to forget that Sharkey had a bit of magic in him. Eyes flashing, the scroll flew out of the fire and repaired itself before his very eyes. Stuffing the scroll into his robe pocket, the old man stood over him glaring. Bill was beginning to feel threatened before the old man regained his composure.

"This is most surprising. I thought that you of all people would want that particular dwarf dead. But I suppose being a bandit has changed little Billy McCoy so much that he doesn't care anymore."

Hearing his real name, something that no one was supposed to know, Bill asked, "What are you talking about? What does this dwarf have to do with my family?"

Sharkey sat down, completely missing the chair with a sincere look of shock on his face. "You don't know?"

If it was anyone else, Bill would have shown no patience and used the effective persuasion of his fists. For an old man with magic, he was willing to pretend to have patience, for now.

"I thought I would stop off at your parents' farm and see how the pipe-weed crop was doing. When I arrived, the house and farm were destroyed. I'm sorry, your parents are dead." Sharkey reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. Hands shaking, Bill took a long sip.

_They're dead?! It... can't be. No! Not when I finally got my life together._

"Around the entire house, I saw dwarven footprints. I know, for a fact, that Thorin Oakenshield's company was there. Even though I did not see it, he is the only one who could have killed them." Sharkey said.

"Where is he? Where is that murdering coward?" Bill roared. Nothing was going to get in his way. His bandits would leave _tonight_ and start the hunt.

Sharkey took back his flask. "I have heard that his army is in the Shire now. Use caution, my friend. He is a cunning adversary. My sources say that he has dyed his hair and beard blonde in order to hide in plain sight."

* * *

 

Elrohir stumbled downstairs. It was so early in the morning that the Sun was still sleeping. Walking into the main kitchens, he kept his eyes almost completely closed as he made tea. His mind drifted as he waited for the water to boil.

The Last Homely Home had been in chaos when they arrived. 'Missing' and 'haunted' were the words on everyone's mind. No one had seen Grandmother, Saruman the White, Arwen, or Lindir in days. Father had not yet returned, either.

In a panic, the Sons of Elrond searched everywhere. They should have started with Lindir's office as he was Father's assistant. The elf kept meticulous notes. Considering the volumes of notes that littered his office, Lindir kept notes on everything.

 _So many notes..._ Elrohir thought shivering.

They had finally found a helpful note by the window. It was the only one on the window sill - _Lady Galadriel has called for Cirdan. Saruman the White is traveling to his library for more research._

His brother was reassured by the note. It had been years since Cirdan had been to Middle Earth. The journey was a difficult one for the old, blind elf.

There was something wrong with all of this. Elrohir was beyond worried. So many things were not adding up. Why would Grandmother call Cirdan when she knew they were bringing Tom here? No one could find Arwen. His sister was not well enough to travel. Where was she? Where was Lindir? Why would he leave Imladris? They could neither confirm or deny anything till they found him.

If that was not bad enough, his people were terrified. They believed that Imladris was haunted. The forge was running at all hours of the day with no one inside, but the hammer was clearly heard. It would stop whenever someone entered the forge area and then continue when it was once again unoccupied.

The fountain was randomly splashing people with water whenever someone went near it. Several people had witnessed this strange occurrence. No one went near it now.

Also, entire suits of armor were missing from the armory. This was a significant worry considering the Orcs were coming.

_As if the hundreds of Orcs sitting on the border, ready to kill them all, was not bad enough. It's a terrible time for Father to be away._

Lindir was Father's right hand and was used to dealing with these issues. Elladan and Elrohir were warriors, not diplomats or problem solvers.

He walked quietly through the door to the small dining room next door. The family used this room when not entertaining guests. Sitting down, he took his first sip of tea, moaning softly as he relaxed, despite his worries.

Opening his eyes, he froze.

Seated across the table, surrounded by plates of food, sat a large dwarf with a long red beard. In each of his hands, there was a piece of a sandwich. The dwarf froze as he noticed Elrohir sitting across from him.

No sooner had Elrohir opened his mouth, then the dwarf disappeared.


	13. Aquamarine

Aquamarine

Disclaimer: Not my circus, not my monkeys. Tolkien is responsible for the history of the One Ring.

Onwards!

* * *

 

"Was that two rights and three lefts or the other way around?" Thorin muttered.

_I'm not lost. When I turn this corner, I shall know exactly where I am._ Thorin thought. He was quite certain the elves designed the Last Homely House just to confuse him.

Turning the corner, Thorin couldn't believe his eyes. Balin was supposed to be bringing Bilbo back from the library, like he had for the past two nights that the company was stuck here.

With the ridiculous Mark of the First Born in effect over all of Rivendell, the company had taken turns carrying Bilbo everywhere. Thorin still wasn't convinced that this magical taint actually existed, but Balin seemed to think it was true. If this was some kind of Wizard foolishness, Thorin swore he would outlaw wizards from Erebor.

All of this did not explain why Bilbo was sitting on Balin's shoulders, both of them leaning against a closed door, eavesdropping! He expected this from Nori or his nephews, but Balin and Bilbo were too...respectable to be listening at the door, like children.

"What are you-"

"Shh!" both of them said, turning back to the door.

_I am the King. Under. The. Mountain. No one Shh's me!_ Thorin thought, ready to tell them exactly that when Balin motioned him over.

Glaring at them for sinking to this new low and dragging a respectable, royal dwarf with them, he put his ear to the door, next to where Bilbo was listening. Bilbo's hair was obstructing his view of the Hobbit's eyes so he brushed the hair aside. His Hobbit blushed as a small, silly smile covered the King's face for a second.

_His Hobbit_ Thorin thought with some joy. Though Bilbo was incredibly shy, Thorin would enjoy the wait until Bilbo was ready. He was a patient dwarf when he wanted to be.

"Despite our best efforts, Mithrandir, his fever is rising too fast and too high" said a voice Thorin did not recognize behind the door. "We have never seen anything like this."

"My brother and I are not healers. Father is the only one who can help him...and you.", another voice said.

_Bloody hell, how many people are in there?_ Thorin wondered, hating the feeling of increasing confusion.

"Me? What do you mean? My arm will be fine, with time. If you are referring to my magic, it will return once I have rested a bit. I used far too much to keep him alive till we made it here", Gandalf asked.

Sudden silence on the other side of the door was so awkward that Thorin was grateful he wasn't in there. He could see a growing smirk on Balin's face. The old dwarf could always tell when someone was trying to think up a really good lie.

The first voice answered, finally- "As we were carrying you up here, a scroll fell out of your robes. I did not intend to read it, but as it fell...open, isn't that right, Elladan?"

"Elrohir, I'm the one who suggested we put the scroll back in Mithrandir's robes before he woke up, as you'll recall."

"Actually, Brother, you're the one who grabbed the scroll out of my hand and ran away as soon as the healers were tending to both wizards to read it."

_Please tell me that every species does_ _not_ _have a Fili and Kili!_ Thorin thought, praying to Aule, but when did he ever listen to the line of Durin?

"I could only read one line that wasn't in that strange writing. The only one who could read it completely would be Father. He has not returned from..." Thorin could not hear the rest over Balin.

"Damn, I told Gandalf to be careful with that scroll." Balin muttered, then suddenly looked at Thorin with a very worried expression on his face.

It was not the swearing, which was very unusual for Balin, but the words themselves that caused Thorin to tilt his head in suspicion. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, the one that was directly over his heart, Thorin sighed with relief as he felt the scroll, nestled right where he had left it.

The fact that Balin did not relax immediately put him back on high alert, however. Pulling the scroll out of his pocket, Thorin only had to glance at the first line to know the truth-

_Welcome, Burglar of Erebor! As a new dwarfling, it is this company's honor and privilege to assist you in preparing for your new home..._

Thorin could feel his face turning red with rage. Balin and Bilbo stole from him! They took it right out of his pocket and gave his family heirloom to Gandalf so that elves could put their filthy paws all over it!

He must have made some sort of noise because suddenly the door handle turned. All three of them turned invisible as the door opened up to reveal two identical elves on the other side. The elves were looking up and down the hallway with weapons drawn.

"Go that way, I'll go this way" one of the brother's said. As the two elves split up to find them, Thorin glanced back into the room.

Radagast was lying on a bed, covered in bandages. His face was flushed with fever, and he was mumbling. The wizard's entire body was trembling with sickness. Sitting in a chair beside the bed was Gandalf. The (former and soon-to-be-dead-as-soon-as-Thorin-got-to-him) member of Thorin's company had his arm bound, bruises covering his face, and his robe was replaced by a simple Elven robe. The old man was trying to comfort his ill friend.

Before Thorin could think about marching in there and demanding answers, he could hear the two elves returning.

"I know I heard something. You heard it too?" Elladan asked.

Elrohir was still looking around, unable to stand still. He whispered to his brother, "Ever since we returned, home has not felt safe. I think this place is haunted."

"Not this again" Elladan spoke slowly "Ghosts do not eat. They don't use forges. Nor do they muck out stalls. There's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this".

"Shh! You're going to upset the ghost", Elrohir whispered. In a louder voice, he said, "You can have as much food as you want!"

Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother's antics before returning to the sick room. Elrohir looked up and down the hallway before continuing, "Your beard is quite impressive." Glaring at his brother for laughing, Elrohir returned to the room, but kept the door open.

_That is definitely Kili-elf,_ Thorin thought. _Ghosts do not use forges? What the hell is the elf talking...Oh._

Since none of the elves could see the dwarves, he could only imagine how it might look like the work of a ghost. No one in the company would muck the stalls, though.

_Elves_ Thorin snorted _Ridiculous creatures._

A sadistic glee overwhelmed him. These elves deserved it. For trying to kill Bilbo, they deserved so much worse. But thinking of Bilbo reminded Thorin that he needed to have a talk with his Burglar very soon.

The King watched them give his scroll to Gandalf (the Traitor). As the elves left and closed the door to the sick room, Thorin watched in amazement as both of them stood looking at each other for a moment. It was the same eerie communication of Fili and Kili when his nephews were weighing the options.

"I don't like lying to him. Nothing good will come from lying to a wizard."

"Elrohir, we could only read one line on that scroll. Chances are that if we could read it with our limited knowledge, then so could he."

_Those bastards could read some of the scroll. I will get answers, one way or another!_ Thorin vowed.

Elrohir looked unconvinced, "You don't think he would actually give the scroll to Thorin Oakenshield, do you? It would be a suicide mission."

Elladan appeared to consider it for a moment before finally shaking his head. "I'm not worried about the dragon. I think the dwarves could kill it, especially after all these years of hating the monster. Someone will have an idea of what to do. My concern is that King Thorin would have to face the gold sickness and the dragon's magic together."

Both of the elves moved east, towards the main quarters so that Thorin didn't hear what Elrohir said next. He felt like he had been punched. The elves knew about his family curse.

There was nothing he could do to stop it so he decided to focus on what he could change. Turning visible again, Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, waiting.

If it were any other dwarf but Balin, Thorin knew that they'd have used the opportunity to escape unnoticed. But Balin, Son of Fundin, was not a coward. The King was proven correct when Balin, carrying Bilbo, appeared in front of him.

"Now, laddie-" Balin began but Thorin cut him off with a wave of his hand. Holding his arms outstretched in front of him, Thorin reached for Bilbo. The old dwarf looked like he wanted to keep the Hobbit from him, but handed Bilbo over with a sigh.

"Go in there and get that scroll back. Find out where Elrond is hiding. Mr. Baggins owes me an explanation." Thorin couldn't decide who looked more worried, Balin or Bilbo. He couldn't care less how Balin got the scroll back, just so long as he got it back.

Walking down the hallway, he found an empty balcony, overlooking the sun setting over the valley. The elves really did have a beautiful view from this house, not that Thorin would ever say that aloud, especially right now.

He was about to have a very loud tantrum, one of his best, but he made the very foolish mistake of underestimating Mr. Bilbo Baggins.

"Let go of my braid!" Thorin yelled. How could tiny Hobbit hands possess such strength? One thing no dwarf could withstand was someone pulling their hair. It was a symbol of status and power. As much as he cared for Bilbo, he was not above tossing the Hobbit off the balcony if he pulled any harder and told the Hobbit as much.

"Listen to me! I did not steal from you."

It was a small blessing that no one else was here because Thorin was seriously considering his options, especially since he was _possibly_ losing this battle before it had begun.

His One, his Hobbit, had dared to steal from him!

When that damn worm attacked, Thorin had focused on getting his people to safety. He had nothing but the clothes on his back when he left. The scroll was one of the only things he had from Erebor.

Thinking back to that time was so painful. Grandfather had to be sedated so he didn't try some hopeless suicide mission. Before the gold sickness had consumed him, Thorin was certain the dwarf would have been focused on saving the people rather than saving the Arkenstone.

Even thinking about his stolen home, made this new theft burn hotter than a raging forge. "Liar! The Wizard has the scroll that was in my pocket. How do you explain that?"

Thankfully, Bilbo let go of his hair. Unfortunately, the little bastard grabbed his nose and pinched _hard._ Thorin would never admit to making such a high-pitched scream, not even under torture.

The fact that he couldn't drop his armful of Hobbit due to the blasted Mark meant that he couldn't move out of range from this continued assault, not that Bilbo was truly capable of hurting him, of course.

"I removed the scroll when I was cleaning your clothes from the skunk spray and put it in my pocket so that it didn't get wet. With all of the confusion that followed, I forgot I had it." Bilbo relaxed, watching the rage slowly disappearing from Thorin's face.

Thorin looked down at the ground, breathing hard as he tried to calm down. His One did not steal from him. He was about to give a small nod in apology (because Kings do not actually _apologize_ ) when he suddenly remembered that Gandalf had the scroll.

"That doesn't explain how the scroll came to be in the Wizard's hand. Nor does it explain how your scroll got to be in my pocket. Oh Aule, you meant to give my scroll to the elves, didn't you? After everything they did to you, how could you choose them over me?!"

"Confusicate you stubborn...You would have gotten all the way to the mountain without letting anyone look at that scroll? What were you going to do then? Knock on the door and ask Smaug if he had a fireball to spare for some roasted dwarves?" Bilbo continued to rant from the circle of Thorin's arms. His face turning bright red in anger, cursing dwarves and especially their King. It was rather...impressive.

When the Hobbit finally ran out of air several minutes later, Thorin said, "As much as I want to be angry at you, I'm just too proud right now."

The look of shock made Thorin chuckle. "What?"

"That temper tantrum was worthy of the line of Durin. You had just the right amount of cursing and enough logic to dismiss my arguments." Thorin smirked as Bilbo blushed again, "Who told you to attack first?"

"Dwalin"

"Yes, that does sound like him. Both Sons of Fundin are against me in this. Balin convinced you to give him the scroll for it to be translated?"

"Exactly. I..." Bilbo looked very worried all of a sudden.

"I let you get away with insulting your King for 10 minutes and now you hesitate?"

Bilbo began playing with the braid that only moments before he had tried to remove from Thorin's head. Despite the temper, the King sometimes forgot that Bilbo had led a solitary life for the last few years.

"The scroll that's in your pocket right now is the most precious thing that I own. It's there as a promise. I swore that I would get your scroll back. Well, maybe I hoped you would never find out that I switched the two. Since Elrond was supposed to be here, I did not expect the scroll to be missing for so long..."

Sighing, the King leaned back against the wall, pulling Bilbo as far from the edge of the balcony as he could get. Shame was something that Thorin hated feeling, especially when it was due to saying something stupid. Bilbo had been trying to help him, and in return, Thorin had threatened to throw the Hobbit off the balcony.

He gave a startled gasp as warm lips gently met his. The kiss ended so fast that Thorin would have thought he imagined it, were it not for the blush on Bilbo's face.

"I think we just survived our first argument" Bilbo said shyly.

"So long as that's it for unpleasant conversations today" Thorin said, licking his lips. He was hoping to move from arguing to more pleasant endeavors as soon as possible. But no one ever said luck was on the side of Thorin Oakenshield.

"Actually..." Bilbo began.

The King thumped his head on the wall behind him, regretting his choice of words immediately. It was like saying "I think the worst is behind us" and then having a bear come out of nowhere, ready to eat everyone. Words like that was just challenging fate to do its worst.

"What did the elves mean by 'gold sickness'?"

Thorin looked away from Bilbo, and his back slumped. Even from this angle, he could see Bilbo frowning out of the corner of his eyes.

"Hey," Bilbo said, "Will you just tell me what's going on?" Small Hobbit fingers began touching his hair again, stroking through the strands near his face in a soothing manner.

"Have you ever heard of the Rings of Power?"

Bilbo took a moment to consider, but finally shook his head. "I read about them years ago, but I cannot recall anything now."

"The Dark Lord gave every leader of the seven clans a ring. We didn't know he was evil back then. It was meant to enslave us to his will. Instead, it increased our greed, to the point of madness. Some leaders were able to overcome this madness. My Grandfather could not. He knew it was consuming him so he decided to focus all of his greed on one piece of treasure- the Heart of the Mountain. For a few years, the plan worked. So long as he could see the Arkenstone, he was able to hide the gold sickness from everyone. Slowly, though, the madness consumed him."

"Where is the ring now? Swallowed by a dragon, I hope?"

Thorin still refused to look at Bilbo as he held up his hand with the ring on it. He couldn't hide a flinch when Bilbo touched his hand to inspect the ring. It looked like an ordinary gold ring, but Thorin knew better.

"Throw it away!" Bilbo said, reaching to remove the ring.

"It will not do. I have thrown it away many times only to look down at my hand and see it again. There is magic in this ring. It haunts my family. When I die, it will find Fili."

This was his future- to lose his mind, throwing away his people for blood money. How many dwarves would still be alive today if his ancestor had not accepted this gift from that evil bastard?

_Why would Bilbo want me, knowing that I will change into a complete stranger? I will only hurt him._ Thorin thought, looking at Bilbo's horrified face.

"I...I'll understand if you don't want me anymore, knowing that I, that I..." Thorin stuttered, feeling even more shame that a King could not complete a simple sentence. This day couldn't get any worse.

"Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo said sternly, reaching out and turning Thorin's face until he was looking at him. "You are such a melodramatic idiot."

" _What_?" Thorin said, irritated.

"I'm not going anywhere," Bilbo said, with a look of understanding that was too painful for Thorin. The Hobbit wouldn't let him look away, however. "You think I don't understand what you're going through? I have a whole Other person inside of me that has done nothing short of destroying my life. The only difference that I see is that your eyes won't change colors when your "Other" comes out to play."

Thorin kissed Bilbo gently on the forehead. He had no words to express his relief and gratitude. Anger and suspicion were easy to express, but this was more, so much more. His One was not going to abandon him, even knowing what the future held for him. For them.

Thror had been able to stay sane by focusing on one precious thing in his life. Like the Kings before him, Grandfather had chosen treasure. Thorin's precious treasure was right here in his arms and able to help him fight the greed.

Without moving too far away from Bilbo, Thorin whispered near Bilbo's mouth, "I'm sorry I doubted you. I shall never underestimate you again, my...Precious."

An inelegant snort answered that, followed by a sarcastic "Yes, you will."

"I just told you that I won't-"

A loud explosion came from somewhere nearby. The entire balcony was shaking violently. Thorin could barely keep from falling, but he desperately tried to keep them from going any closer to the ledge. Moving swiftly to the doorway, Thorin hunched his shoulders so that he was covering Bilbo protectively as the walls groaned and cracked under the strain.

What seemed like a lifetime, but was only a few more seconds, the world finally stopped shaking. Looking down the hallway, Thorin could see the floor covered in all the paintings, tables, and overturned chairs; and several broken shards of an old sword littered the ground.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked shakily.

"If my idiot nephews are responsible, I'll..." Thorin never finished as a very familiar voice screamed from nearby.

"Gandalf!"

* * *

 

Fili sneezed again. He felt his brother immediately elbow him in the ribs.

The only trouble with being invisible was that he couldn't see where Kili was hiding to hit him back. Learning invisibility was the easy part. Moving around without making a sound was proving to be nearly impossible, but they had to keep trying.

"Ah, ah..." he squeezed his eyes and clamped down on his nose to hold in another sneeze. Beside him he could hear Kili chuckling.

"There is something in the air making me sick", Fili said in a congested voice.

"Look over there, Fili."

Fili knew, just knew, that his brother was pointing in some direction. "You know that I can't see your arm, right?"

With a soft hum, Kili appeared right next to him, pointing at the river. On the shore, stood a dwarf.

"What's he doing? Uncle said we had to remain invisible while in Rivendell."

"Won't know till we ask." Kili said, running over. Fili rolled his eyes. If Kili were invisible, the two could observe without being seen. As he approached, still invisible, he could see it was Bofur, who had the most peculiar look on his face.

"I'm surprised to see you without Fili." Bofur said. Kili opened his mouth, most likely to say that Fili was here, but Fili put a hand on his arm to stop him.

He had a suspicion for awhile now. Kili could never hide anything from him, especially when he was smitten. This was sure to be interesting.

"Oh...Ah...Uncle is talking to him. Something boring. One good thing about turning invisible is that you can sneak out of the room... not that I intend to leave the room everytime Uncle starts yelling, mind you..." Kili said nervously.

Bofur merely chuckled.

"What are you doing out here, Bofur?"

"Well, I noticed something very odd. Do you see it?"

Fili and Kili both looked around. They were standing on the shore by the West Tower of the largest house in Rivendell. The sun was just setting over the mountains, bathing the valley in the last light of day.

"Um...no?"

Bofur crouched down looking away from the river and towards the house. "Notice anything strange on the ground here?"

Kili kept looking on the ground between the house and the shore. His eyes seemed to travel right over the large tree. "There is a shadow on the ground. It's the shadow of a tree, but there is no tree that corresponds with it."

Fili could feel his jaw drop. In all his life, he had never heard Kili use a big word like 'correspond'. If asked, he would say his brother did not even know what the word meant. Fili forgot all about the 'mystery' for a moment, looking back and forth between the two dwarves in front of him. Very interesting, indeed.

Patting Kili on the back, Bofur laughed as he turned invisible, "You got it, lad! Now turn invisible."

"Holy Durin's knickers, why is the tree invisible when I am visible and, well, the reverse too?" Kili's disembodied voice asked.

_What in the name of Durin is he talking about? The Mallorn tree is standing right there, just like it was a minute ago,_ Fili thought, starting to worry about both dwarves.

Before his eyes, the Mallorn tree suddenly leaned to the left. One of the branches _detached_ itself, nothing cut the large branch off; it was just suddenly not part of the tree anymore. Even though Fili had been watching the whole time, he would not have been able to say what happened nor explain what followed.

The tree brought the detached limb down to where he was standing. Fili was starting to back away when Bofur suddenly appeared in front of him with a soft hum.

"Are...Are you giving this to me?" Bofur asked, his voice full of wonder.

Fili watched in awe as the top of the tree swayed up and down, _nodding_.

"It's nodding, Bofur. Turn invisible quickly. This is incredible." Kili said.

Bofur disappeared again. The branch moved away from the tree as Bofur must have taken it.

"What are you going to make with it?" Kili asked.

"Won't know till I start whittling, it could be-" Bofur stopped short as the tree suddenly moved again.

The roots lifted right out of the ground as the tree walked between Fili and the house. He was so busy watching the tree walk that he did not notice the branch wrapping around his waist.

"Fili!" he could hear Kili yell. Both Bofur and his brother turned visible, floating a few feet off the ground, tree branches wrapped around their waists, too.

The tree began traveling fast, almost running, away from the house. The sun had just set and, thankfully, it was dark enough that no one noticed 2 dwarves flying through the air.

Behind them, near where they'd been standing, the West Tower exploded and collapsed.

* * *

 

"Come in" Gandalf said.

His eyebrow rose as the door opened and closed by itself. The Wizard stood from his chair beside Radagast's bed, about to start casting. A familiar faint hum filled the air as Balin appeared near the door.

"Son of a Took, he taught you how to turn invisible." Gandalf muttered, relaxing back into his chair. He rubbed his shoulder as it protested the sudden movement.

The older dwarf gave a small smirk, looking entirely too smug about Bilbo teaching them how to turn invisible. "Thorin is already regretting that decision. Fili and Kili have been an absolute nightmare. It will be worse when he finds out _why_ they mucked the stables."

Chuckling, Gandalf could only imagine what those two were planning. He knew, ever since telling the company about The Other, that the Line of Durin would not forgive, nor forget the way these elves had treated Bilbo.

"We saw you both being carried into the healing wing by the elves. What happened, old friend?" Balin asked.

Sighing, both of them turned towards the shivering figure on the bed. Radagast the Brown had numerous bandages on his chest and shoulder. Though his eyes were open, they were unseeing in his fevered state.

"There was a white Warg that was leading the other Wargs. I sensed exceptional intelligence and malice from it. I wouldn't be here now if not for Radagast. They will forever fear him."

"Anything that deters those brutes could be useful. What did he do?"

Gandalf closed his eyes a moment. It was with a painful haze that he remembered the Wargs about to close in and Radagast chanting. Even though he was a wizard himself, he had no idea what Radagast was doing until silence covered the battlefield.

A sad smile crossed the old wizard's face as he opened his eyes to look at Balin, surprised when the dwarf handed him a handkerchief and began searching his pockets for Old Toby to share. In the few minutes it took for Balin to find it, Gandalf was sufficiently recovered to continue.

"The Lone-Lands are now covered in the brightest, blue violets that I have ever seen. I had no idea Radagast was hiding such power. Saruman was so wrong about-"

The dwarf glanced at him as he trailed off, but Gandalf refused to even finish that thought. He was honestly afraid to consider how many things Saruman had gotten wrong. His only hope was that Lady Arwen was safe, but he feared for her greatly. For a moment, he felt so overwhelmed with all the possible consequences.

Balin reached out and rested his hand on Gandalf's arm. "If Oin was awake, I'd send him in. He is still resting after saving the company, however. Is there anything we can do?"

"Keep Bilbo hidden, keep him safe. There is movement in the shadows. I fear the enemy is getting ready for something, and we are not ready."

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. "We have heard that an elf is missing. Lord Elrond's daughter? Is he out looking for her?" Balin asked.

"From what the Sons of Elrond have told me, the light that we saw when leaving Bag End somehow affected her. The head of my order, Saruman the White, was supposed to be treating her with a potion. I don't know what has become of her, or him, for that matter. Radagast had his misgivings from the start."

"But that light did not harm us. Why would it affect her?"

A voice from the doorway startled both of them, "I fear that is my doing."

Gandalf stood up at the sight of the ancient elf, his voice full of wonder, "Cirdan"

* * *

 

{ 5 years ago}

"Push!" Frodo yelled.

All four Hobbitlings pushed the wheelbarrow as hard as they could but the door wouldn't budge.

"We have to keep trying, Pip. Bilbo is trapped in there. We can't let those giants get away with this." Merry said. He would never admit it, but he was starting to lose hope at freeing him.

It had not taken Frodo long to convince Sam, Merry, and Pip into trying to free Bilbo. They all loved his Uncle just as much as he did. He was the best Hobbit that lived in the Shire.

Bilbo Baggins had a reputation of being very Tookish. He would travel outside of the Shire for months at a time. Whenever he returned, Bilbo would tell them all about his adventures. They couldn't wait to be old enough to go with him. All of that changed a week ago.

At first, everyone in the Shire was so excited to see a company of elves passing through Hobbiton. They had with them a large wagon that was so heavy that it left deep grooves in the ground. No one had any idea that Bilbo was in that wagon.

Merry would never forget that day. It haunted him. Bag End had been his home away from home during all of his five years in Middle Earth. He had watched from an upper branch of an apple tree as the giants used a spell to make it _disappear_.

They spent the next hour moving hot lava out of ornate jars and covered the missing house. How they were able to move lava, Merry didn't know. He had so many questions, but something held him back. He had a bad feeling about these giants.

Over the years, Gandalf and Bilbo had told him stories about the wonderful elves. How wise and compassionate they were. These elves looked like they had never smiled a day in their lives. Their faces were full of anger and hate. They were nothing like the stories.

After the walls cooled, the elf with the crown on his head had entered the wagon. For a few minutes, nobody moved. The elf left the wagon with a Hobbit in his arms. Even from this distance, Merry would recognize Bilbo anywhere. The Hobbit was sleeping soundly in the elf's arms.

A human dressed in a long, white robe exited the wagon.

"Are you certain this will hold him, Elrond?" the old man asked.

The elf paused before walking into the stone room, "It was made to hold Isildur though he was murdered before we could capture him. Once we close the door, the Hobbit will never leave."

Carefully, making his way down the tree, Merry finally approached the door after the elves left. Looking around, he could not see anyone nearby. He began knocking on the door frantically.

"Bilbo? Bilbo, can you hear me? Bilbo! ...

..."Gah, this is not working." Pippin said, scaring poor Merry out of his reflection so badly that he let go of the wheelbarrow.

"I'm afraid he's right, Cousin. We have tried everything to get him out." Merry said sadly.

"Not everything" said a voice behind them. All four Hobbits turned and then had to raise their eyes to look at the face of the speaker.

The elf was very old with creepy white eyes that were looking slightly over Sam's shoulder. Merry turned to see what exactly the elf was starring at, but he did not see anything of interest. Turning back towards the elf, Merry narrowed his own eyes. There was something not quite right about this elf, but he did not have that angry-face that the previous elves had.

"I am not with the elves that were here earlier, if that is what you are wondering, young one." the elf said, without looking at anyone in particular.

_Ok, that was not creepy,_ Merry thought. At the sudden smile appearing on the old elf's face, Merry quickly tried to think of nothing, just in case the elf was really able to hear his thoughts.

_"Don't be afraid, Little One. I am here to help"_ a voice whispered into his mind. Merry, instead of being afraid, felt calmer. Sam would most likely believe the elf was doing something unnatural to him, but Merry could always tell when someone was telling the truth.

"Will you help us?" Merry asked.

Sam stepped forward, "Now see here, Mr. Elf. We watched as elves dragged Frodo's Uncle, and our dear friend, into that building. If you're here to stop us, I'll-"

"I have traveled a long way in order to save your friend. If I had been here sooner, but alas, my steps are not so long nor so many. In my younger days, I would have..." the elf trailed off, kneeling down to be at the same level as the Hobbits.

"I'm Merry. This is Pippin, Sam, and that is Frodo." The other Hobbits were looking at him strangely.

Sam whispered, "Merry, quiet! We don't know that we can trust him yet."

"My name is Cirdan. It will take time to get Bilbo out, but with your help, I am certain that we shall succeed."

Merry could see that Sam was about to protest, and probably say something insulting, but Frodo put a hand on Sam's arm.

"Why did the elves do this?" Frodo asked.

The old elf let out a long sigh. "Your friend swallowed something that was very bad."

"Did Bilbo swallow a watermelon seed?" Merry asked.

Pippin slapped a hand to his face, mumbling about Brandybucks and Sacksville-Baggins in general.

Cirdan cocked his head to the side, starring in Merry's direction. "I'm afraid I've not heard of this. What is the danger of eating a watermelon seed?"

Even Sam cringed, but Cirdan did not, could not, see it.

"Oh, Mr. Cirdan. It's dangerous to eat watermelon seeds, according to my mother's sister's son's best friend. If you should swallow one of the seeds, then it won't leave with the rest of your food. Oh, nope, nope. The seed stays in your tummy and then it grows and grows until-."

This was when most 'sensible' folks stopped Merry and called him foolish. But the old elf surprised him.

"Until?" the elf asked. Merry was undeterred by several groans from his ignorant friends. They would realize how serious this situation was when Cirdan believed him. He just had a feeling that the elf understood him.

"Well, Hobbits go missing after that. No one says anything, but Farmer Maggot, who is the only farmer in the Shire to grow watermelons, plants more watermelons at the exact same time. That does not sound like a co ... co ... coinc...cinc ... dancy ... coincindancy to me."

Cirdan, just like Merry guessed, did not join in the laughter of his friends. The elf appeared to be deep in thought. Merry tugged on his sleeve. "You believe me, don't you?"

The old elf gently picked Merry up and held him on his hip so that they were eye-to-eye. "My dear friend, I had no idea that watermelon seeds were so dangerous. Bilbo did not swallow a watermelon seed, but something very similar."

"What?!" Sam, Frodo, and Pippin all said together.

"There must be some mistake! Hobbits do not go around eating strange things. It is simply not done." Frodo said, looking to Sam and Pippin, who both nodded their heads in agreement.

"And the only reason that Otho told you that story about watermelon seeds was so he could finish the rest of the watermelon pieces himself." Pippin said.

A small smile pulled at the wrinkly old face. "From what Mithrandir told me, Bilbo had no choice in the matter. The "watermelon seed" stayed in his tummy and started to grow and take over your friend."

All three Hobbitlings now clung to Cirdan's robes, their faces looking frightened, all talking at once. "Please, don't let my Uncle turn into a watermelon." "We have to save him" "I'm sorry I doubted you, Merry!"

"I think I know of a way to help him, but I am going to need all of you to be my eyes. We can cast a spell that will drain the 'watermelon' out of him, slowly."

Frodo started to cry, wiping his tears on the part of robe clutched in his hands, "Slowly?! But I want Uncle out of their now! Now! Now! Now-"

Sam immediately hugged Frodo to him, "Now, Mr. Frodo. You need to calm down. Cirdan said he can help us. He is the only one who has tried to help at all."

The elf knelt down again so that he could hug both hobbits to him. Merry was squished against all three. It was getting rather painful, but he was not about to complain. There was something so peaceful about being around this elf, Merry couldn't describe it.

Looking over at Pip, he could see that he, too, was starting to cry so Merry reached out for his hand which was quickly taken.

For the last week, they had been trying to get Bilbo out. The adults kept trying to make them stay away. They said the place was evil now. Some of the older Hobbits claimed a Took was finally paying the price for all their Tookish ways. Adults can be so mean sometimes.

"And you, Merry, will have the most important job of all. You will have to practice your tummy talk so Bilbo can hear you."

Merry looked at the elf in shock. No one ever trusted him to do anything. Puffing out his chest, Merry smiled, feeling important.

"I'll be able to talk to Bilbo?"

The old elf smiled back. "He will hear you, but you won't be able to hear him. Tell him everything, even if it is silly. Don't stop talking, Merry."

Finally, they had an adult on their side. A clever and ancient elf that needed _their_ help. Cirdan said Bilbo would be free. Merry believed him.

* * *

 

{Present day}

"- It took a week for the children to make all of those runes. Once the entire prison was covered, I cast the spell." Cirdan said.

The old elf sat on one side of Radagast's bed while Balin and Gandalf sat on the other side. Even though Balin was supposed to hide from all the elves, per Thorin's order, he felt that hiding from a blind elf was somewhat...foolish. The way Cirdan spoke fondly of the Hobbits and had helped Bilbo, Balin felt the elf could be trusted.

He had listened intently to Cirdan's description of his trip to the Shire after missing the Council meeting, but he still had so many questions. What was the spell? For that matter, what was the lava? How did those shards heal Bilbo?

"So this spell that you used was going to drain Bilbo of magic?" Gandalf asked.

"That was the plan. The spell would have to drain him slowly, though. Trying to remove the magic too quickly would most likely have sent Bilbo into serious shock. I thought that if the magic was gone, then Bilbo would be able to leave. I also added to the spell around the prison, making it look and feel like Bag End so that he would be comfortable."

Gandalf smiled, "I had wondered who made Bag End return to its former glory. It was a kindness I did not expect from Elrond or Saruman."

"How did Elrond acquire this lava?" Balin asked.

"Years ago, Lord Elrond knew who had the Ring. It was a ring so evil that he feared what anyone wielding it could do. He ordered a secret mission into the land of our enemy to get that lava. There is something in the lava that is powerful enough to contain all forms of evil. Elrond figured the lava would hold The Other, too."

"What ring?" Balin asked. Knowing of Thorin's ring, the old dwarf was terrified to even think that Cirdan was describing the same ring.

Cirdan's voice was chilling as he recited,

_"Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_   
_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_   
_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_   
_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,_   
_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._

_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_   
_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness, bind them._   
_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."_

"Isildur's Bane..."Gandalf muttered, "Elrond meant to imprison Isildur with that lava!"

Cirdan nodded.

All three of them were lost in thought after that. So that was why Thror's ring haunted Thorin. It was cursed by the Dark Lord himself. Thorin was wise to fear the ring, but thankfully, it was not the One Ring. Balin knew Thorin would want to know about this lava, though.

"Elrond believed that the prison would hold Isildur and the One Ring forever. He has kept the lava here should the Ring ever be found." Cirdan said. "By adding the runes and spell, I hoped to free Bilbo from that terrible place."

"Wait, wait. If the spell was supposed to drain magic from Bilbo, then what did it do to Lady Arwen?" Balin asked, trying to make sense of all this.

"The spell may have taken more than her magic. Elves house magic inside of our souls. If she had been extending her spirit towards the house, then it may have trapped her."

Gandalf gasped. Balin didn't really understand how this was possible, but it sounded bad.

_How could she survive her soul being ripped from her body?_ he wondered.

"Cirdan, she is still alive. Everything Elrond and Lady Galadriel tried to do seemed to cause more harm than good. How can we help her?"

Sighing, the old elf thought for a moment. "If we were to heat the lava, the runes would distort as it melted. The spell cannot exist without those runes. I don't know what will happen, not definitely. But, Gandalf, you said there was a flash of light when Bilbo left Bag End?"

"Yes, it was blinding for a moment before it disappeared. So did the image of Bag End." Gandalf answered.

"I wonder-" the old elf stopped speaking and turned suddenly towards the door, "Someone is at the door!"

Gandalf grabbed his staff, which had been leaning against the wall, as he and Balin both ran for the door. A tall elf in a dark robe was running down the hallway.

"Catch him!" Cirdan yelled, his voice held such power that Balin was too shocked to move.

"Run" Gandalf yelled, pushing Balin out the door.

Running down the hall, they come to an intersection. One way was heading towards the West Tower, the other direction heading to the balcony overlooking the river.

"Which way?" Balin asked gasping. Dwarves were good at short sprinting. Trying to chase one of these long-legged elves all across Rivendell was a job for the young.

Gandalf glanced in both directions, weighing the options. "You head that way. The elf might escape from the balcony. I'll check the tower than join you."

Balin nodded, then started running down the hall, but stopped when Gandalf called him back. The old wizard had a strange look on his face, as if he knew something bad was about to happen.

"Take the scroll. Elrond is returning from Dol Guldur. Finding him is the only thing that matters now."

Putting the scroll in his pocket, he wasted a minute watching Gandalf run towards the tower. Shaking off the foreboding feeling, Balin ran towards the balcony. He didn't get far before a loud explosion behind him sent the old dwarf flying towards the floor. As the ground shook, Balin stumbled back towards the tower.

Just as the ground stopped shaking, he reached the hallway that he had left Gandalf. There was a large hole in the wall at the end of the hallway, revealing the night sky. Looking out of the broken wall, Balin could see a large hole in the ground where the West Tower _should_ have been.

"Gandalf!" he yelled but there was no answer.

* * *

 

{An hour earlier}

Ever since this journey began, Bifur had not had a chance to meditate. Since the company was wasting time in this leaf-eater's house, he finally had the peace and quiet necessary to do this.

Sitting across the empty room that the company inhabited was Ori. The young scholar was devouring another book from Elrond's library. Most of the dwarves assumed that Ori was actually trying to read _every_ book the elf owned, but Bifur knew better.

From this angle, Bifur could see that the book in his hands was all about healing, written by the elves. The young one was desperately searching for something to treat Oin, who laid in the bed beside Bifur.

It was said that Stonespeakers paid a price for the power they wielded. Since Oin was the last of his kind, many had forgotten about the struggles of a dwarven healer. The more power he used, the more pronounced his hearing loss.

Bifur did not remember a great deal from 'before the axe' but he remembered his grandfather speaking in hushed tones to his father while a little Bifur listened at the door.

"Stonespeakers" Grandfather said, "start to listen to the stone more than the world above ground. Eventually, the Stone will be the only thing they hear. They will soon be lost to the world around them, deaf to everything but the voice of the Stone. It is a gold-sickness without the gold."

There was something else from that conversation, though. Grandfather had spoken of how to reverse it, a way to bring the Stonespeaker back.

If only he could remember!

Closing his eyes, Bifur tried to focus on that one memory.

_It's important! Oin's life is in your hands. He saved you when the axe should have killed you. You owe him!,_ Bifur thought, trying to motivate his brain. But, no matter how hard he tried, the memory kept slipping from his mind.

Sighing loudly, Bifur scared poor Ori, who had been so focused on the book that he apparently forgot Bifur was in the room.

"Oh, Bifur. You startled me. Were you able to think of it?"

Shaking his head, Bifur watched the hopeful look slip away from the young face. Stretching his legs, the old dwarf could feel only pins and needles as he walked from Oin's bedside towards the window.

The sun was just setting over the valley. A small smirk escaped as Bifur considered his plan. Every dwarf within the company had gone out of their way to annoy the Elves.

These leaf-eating freaks had harmed Bilbo, one of the gentlest souls Bifur had ever met. He was fiercely protective of that little dwarfling and had taken the time to plan something truly spectacular, in his honor.

Since the King had ordered the company not to _directly_ hurt anyone, Bifur had spent the last few days in surveillance, looking for the one place that the elves avoided. For some reason, all the elves avoided the West Tower. It was the perfect location to get his revenge.

Nori had not asked any questions when Bifur requested the materials needed to make a small explosion. With one of Gandalf's whiz-poppers, the fireworks would be beautiful and have the added bonus of scaring the elves shitless. Nothing could go wrong. It was foolproof.

Once the sun was almost completely gone, Bifur had calculated that the sun's rays would finally hit the looking glass that he found in the tower, directing the light to ignite the fuse.

Any minute now, the sky was going to light up. _Wait for it! Wait for-_

A sharp gasp behind him made Bifur turn quickly. Oin's eyes were wide open. The old dwarf was convulsing on the bed. His arms were flailing up towards his throat as though something were choking him.

Ori threw the book on the table and ran to Oin's side. He was trying to keep Oin's arms down, but the old dwarf had immense strength born of desperation. "He can't breathe! What do we do?" Ori yelled, looking to Bifur for help.

Rushing over, Bifur tried to hold Oin's body down. "Bilbo left us an athelas poultice, place it on his chest. We need to make sure he doesn't bump his head till this passes."

Suddenly, a loud explosion shook the entire house. The ground continued to shake for several minutes. Both Ori and Bifur struggled to keep Oin on the bed while also protecting the old dwarf from falling objects.

"What the hell was that?" Ori yelled frantically looking around once the shaking finally stopped.

Oin let out one final gasp before collapsing on the bed. Ori immediately checked on him, looking up at Bifur in terror.

"He's dead" Ori said, shakily.

_What have I done?_ Bifur thought.

* * *

 

The fire finally reached Overhill.

As it spread further into the Shire, the walls of the prison began to glow a deep red color. Slowly, as the lava began to melt, a blue cloud of smoke rose into the sky, heading East.


	14. Jasper

Chapter 14: Jasper

Disclaimer: Tolkien's work belongs to him. We know that. (sniffle)

A/N: So, who has been happily writing chapter 15 this whole time and only now realized chapter 14 wasn't published...

Onwards!

* * *

 

This was the strangest thing Sebastian had ever seen in all the days since he hatched.

Once the ground stopped shaking, all the elves came out of every door and window in Rivendell. Every single one of them turned around and around, trying to figure out why the ground was shaking.

 _Precious flowers,_ Sebastian thought impertinently.

One by one, they all turned to Elrond's home and saw what was no longer there. No one approached the house, though. The baby eagle didn't blame them.

Sebastian circled the Last Homely Home again and again, looking for the company. Even though they would, most likely, be invisible; Sebastian needed to see them, needed to know they were safe. He wouldn't relax until he knew for sure.

 **"BIFUR-DWARF!"** Sebastian called out every few minutes, with no answer.

Since Radagast-man had literally run into Thorin-dwarf's Company, Sebastian had instantly liked these dwarves. They were loud and fun. All of them would sneak him food when they thought no one was looking. He would be the size of Bombur-dwarf soon, but what a way to go! Even the grumpy King would save a few bites of super and give him a midnight snack when he was on watch (and no one else was awake). But the food was only part of it. These dwarves were family now.

There was only one in the company that he avoided at all cost- the dwarf who refused to wear boots. With every fiber in his being, Sebastian was terrified of that tiny dwarf, and for the life of him, he couldn't explain why!

The Bilbo-dwarf was the kindest of them all, and yet, there was this feeling that something else was inside that dwarf. As powerful as Radagast-man was, it was nothing compared to Bilbo-dwarf. The power was frighteningly intense. Without control, Sebastian was afraid for the company.

It wouldn't surprise him at all to find out that Bilbo-dwarf was behind the ground shaking. No good would come from traveling with that dwarf, but Bifur-dwarf wouldn't hear a bad word about him. It was the only thing that Bifur-dwarf refused to understand.

Finally, someone came out of Elrond's house. Sebastian was disappointed to see it was the Sons of Elrond, the blind elf, and...

 _Who is that?!?_ Sebastian thought, swooping down to sit in a huge window where the West Tower had been. He wasn't a dwarf, human, or an elf. The only thing Sebastian could sense from this being was pure magic. It was as if old magic had gathered and formed into the shape of a man. Unlike Bilbo-dwarf, who terrified Sebastian, this creature was filled with laughter and amusement.

Sebastian was so focused on this creature that he was scared half to death when a hand closed around his beak. Fight-or-Flight instincts are very strong in eagles. A familiar voice whispered to him before he could work himself into a frenzy.

"Sebastian, it's me, Balin." The tiny eagle instantly relaxed and allowed the invisible dwarf to settle him comfortably on his invisible arm.

"Balin-dwarf! Are you alright? What happened?" Of course, Balin-dwarf had no idea what his squawks and chirps actually meant, but the old dwarf could hear the distress and confusion.

"I wish I knew, Lad. I wish I knew. Gandalf-"

A growling noise from down the hall had both of them looking around. "That came from Radagast's room. They left him alone!" Balin shouted before becoming visible and running down the hall.

Sebastian flew ahead of the old dwarf. For some reason, he couldn't sense Radagast-man. The wizard was the first one he saw after hatching. While he now traveled with Thorin-dwarf's company, Sebastian would always have a bond with Radagast-man. The little Eagle should've sensed him, but there was nothing.

One thing Sebastian knew for certain: that growl did not come from Radagast-man. It was too menacing and animalistic for any man to make.

"Let me go in first, Sebastian!" Balin-dwarf huffed, struggling to keep up with the small eagle.

 _Not a chance!_ Sebastian thought, swooping into the room only to screech in terror at the sight of the monster.

* * *

 

With a small shout of joy, Gimli finally found it- the white, flowery plant from Uncle Oin's bead. He had seen this plant a few times, but had never needed it like he did now.

"We got it! Time to head back" he announced proudly to his four-legged companion. Fang, one of the farm hounds, had taken an instant liking to Gimli, despite how they first met. He blushed with a bit of shame and fear as the strong memories of last night were still heavy on his mind...

Seeing the Shire burning and under attack, Lady Dis had ordered the warriors ahead of the caravan to aid the Hobbits. Knowing that a battle, _finally_ , was taking place, Gimli quietly ran among the warriors as both Mama and Lady Dis charged. He knew Mama would be furious, but he wanted, no, he needed to see battle for himself.

If he had known what he was going to see, he would've run back and hid in the wagon.

There was smoke everywhere, making it difficult to see and breathe. The smell of burning vegetables, and worse, was so pungent in the air that Gimli gagged. He stumbled, moving to the other side of a barn to avoid being seen by several snarling shadows running in his direction through the smoke.

Gimli pulled out the small axe his father had made for him, hearing movement behind him. Twirling around, he let out a mighty roar which turned into a high-pitched squeal as a rough tongue licked his face.

Dropping his axe to wipe his face, Gimli saw an enormous dog sitting calmly beside him. This dog was bigger than a Warg, or even a pony. It had a brown shiny coat. What caught Gimli's attention were the eyes - not even a hint of malice or hatred, only curiosity and happiness at seeing him, with a dash of worry.

 _This can't be an evil Warg,_ Gimli thought in confusion. Where was the massive monster with jaws that could snap a dwarf in half?

A snarl from nearby made Gimli decide; he really didn't want to know what a Warg truly looked like anymore. Whining softly, the dog reached behind Gimli and picked him up by the scruff of his armor.

"Hey! Put me down, your mangy beast. I'm warning you, if you don't drop me this instant, I'll chop your tail up like a carrot!" Gimli continued to threaten the beast, flailing his arms and kicking his feet. The dog refused to drop him as it ran around to the other side of the barn.

Having no other option, Gimli knew there was only one thing left to try.

"Mama!" he yelled as loud as he could. It felt so...cowardly to have to yell for her, but he knew that he was in real trouble.

From somewhere nearby, through the smoke, he heard his mother yelling back, "Gimli! Where are you? Gimli!"

Before he could answer her, the dog crawled through a hole in the barn wall. To his dismay, Gimli noticed that the hole wasn't easily seen from the outside.

Instantly, the sound of battle decreased. The air was refreshing after being outside in the burning-wreckage-formerly-known-as-the-Shire for so long. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness but once they did, Gimli noticed two other large dogs huddled in the corner, guarding 4 small creatures.

"I need more water! The bleeding isn't stopping", one of the small Hobbit's said. Gimli was dropped gently by the side of this Hobbit, noticing for the first time that one of them was hurt badly.

His arrival was met with shouts of fright as the other Hobbits finally noticed him.

"Fang, I told you to get help, not a dwarf!"

"Why is there a dwarf in the Shire?"

"Mama, Look out! The Old Pooper!" the injured dwarf yelled in a fevered daze. He was sweating profusely and writhing in pain.

The dog laid down beside Gimli watching with fear and sadness as the injured Hobbit continued to sob and clutch at his friend's arm. Gimli couldn't blame the child for crying as the other arm looked like a mangled mess. He swallowed loudly, trying desperately not to be sick at the horrible sight.

One of the Hobbits started to shake Gimli by the arm. Still feeling rather stunned, Gimli realized the Hobbit was talking to him, "- Pippin, that's Merry and Sam. My cousin, Frodo, was attacked by one of those monsters. Help us, please!"

Seeing all the children starring at him, the little dwarf began to panic. As one of only a handful of dwarven children in Middle Earth, no one _ever_ looked up to him, especially with something this serious. Looking left, he met the eyes of his canine 'abductor' and came to a decision.

"Stay here. I'm gonna get Mama. She'll know what to do."

A sudden lick to his hand was so unexpected, it jarred him out of that terrible memory and brought Gimli back to the present. Fang whimpered and tried to lick his hand again, but the dwarf quickly moved it to scratch his ears. He knew the dog was getting ready to pick him up again if he continued to be distracted.

"Silly creature. I was a bit lost for a moment. We've got to hurry." Gimli said, running back to the large healing tent that was setup under the Party tree.

He imagined the tree had looked splendid, only yesterday. Several of the branches were still smoldering, but the tree had endured, whereas most of the farms in the Shire couldn't boast the same. The houses and hillsides were still on fire, but thankfully, no one was still inside. All of the uninjured Hobbits were scattered outside of the tent, looking dazed and frightened. Inside the tent wasn't any better.

Hobbits and dwarves were running between cots with poultices, potions, and bandages. It was chaos trying to navigate towards the back of the tent where several dwarven guards were standing by a cot.

From the moment Lady Dis and Mama had broken through the door of the barn, they were inseparable. Lady Dis sat at the bedside of Frodo Baggins, holding his uninjured hand. She refused to move from Frodo's bedside. While the Hobbitling had, by some miracle, kept the injured arm, how much he would be able to use it, only time would tell. The little one was fighting for breath as a terrible fever wracked his body.

A similar fever was ravaging all the patients who'd been bitten by a Warg. The dwarves had never seen anything like it. When Wargs attacked in the past, they were the first wave, killing as many as possible, before the Orcs joined the fray.

This attack on the Shire was different because it was only Wargs. They'd bite and move onto a new target- not an Orc in sight and no casualties. The devastating fever, which was normal considering the unhealthy state of a Warg's mouth, was strangely insidious.

Gimli could see Frodo's cot from the tent flap, but every attempt to bring the Athelas to Mama was thwarted. After almost getting trampled by a few Hobbits, Fang picked Gimli up by the scruff of his armor. Crouching down low, the large dog leapt into the air. His fur brushed the top of the tent as they flew over the Hobbits, beds, and patients. Watching the surprised faces of Hobbits below, Gimli gave a thrilled, whooping yelp. The landing was surprisingly gentle as Fang walked proudly past the chuckling Dwarven guards with his tail straight in the air.

"Mama, I found it", Gimli said, handing over the large bundle of leaves to his Mama.

"Thank you, Gimli. You had no trouble? No one bothered you?" Mama said, soaking some of the healing herb into a pot of boiling water.

Gimli leaned back into his canine friend, patting the dog under his chin. "Nothing would dare attack me with Fang nearby."

Mama whispered, "Good boys" to them as she approached Frodo's bed.

"He sleeps, but it's troubled" Lady Dis said to Mama. She held Pippin and Merry on her lap, both looked exhausted, but they were trying desperately to stay awake. They had clung to Lady Dis from the moment she broke through the door of the barn.

Gimli could understand that feeling. The safest place in the world, as far as he was concerned, was near Lady Dis and Mama. They were scary to everyone, except kids.

Sam and his father were sitting in a chair by Frodo's bedside. The little one was slumped against his shoulder sobbing quietly. Frodo's injury hit Sam the hardest.

A male Hobbit with several burns limped into the tent. The three dogs started to yip happily as the Hobbit approached the Dwarven guards.

"I need to speak to whoever's in charge here", he growled, patting each of the dogs. His eyes scanned the injured Hobbits in the tent until they landed on Frodo and the other Hobbitlings. At a gesture from Lady Dis, the Dwarven guards stood aside to allow the injured Hobbit.

"Farmer Maggot!" Sam's Father exclaimed, moving out of his chair to help the injured Hobbit into it. With a small nod, Farmer Maggot greeted Lady Dis as Mama started to tend to his wounds.

"With the Mayor dead, leadership of the Shire falls to the Hobbit with the most land. Despite Lobelia's land grab, Farmer Maggot is still the next in line." Sam's father explained, putting Sam on the bed while he helped Mama.

An inelegant snort escaped the Farmer at hearing this, "I didn't farm the land for political reasons- I farmed it to provide food for our people. But since I am the leader now, I need to acknowledge what has happened. The Shire is no more."

Lady Dis stared at the Hobbit with grudging respect. Gimli had no idea what the Farmer was talking about because they were standing _in_ the Shire. Of course the Shire still existed.

"Surely, the Shire will recover. We have the best farmers in the world, yourself included. It's not the first time the wolves have barked at our door, nor will it be the last", Sam's Father said.

"The ground is burnt beyond repair. What will you do?" Dis asked to Farmer Maggot, all the while glancing at Mama. Those two often spoke without words. It was usually fun to watch them, as they sometimes made funny faces, at the same time.

Farmer Maggot took one of the Athelas leaves that still had a flower. Moving closer to Lady Dis, the farmer dug a small hole in the ground. Dropping the flower into the ground and covering up the hole with the displaced dirt; Gimli watched in awe as the Farmer waved his hand over the ground. Slowly, a plant started to grow. First the leaves, then the flowers: the plant continued until it was in full bloom, with enough Athelas leaves to help everyone in the tent.

"You can do magic?" Gimli asked, in awe.

Living in the mountains, dwarves could manipulate metals and gems to make the greatest of armor and weapons. The downfall of this sort of life was that dwarves didn't know the first thing about growing food. Hunting game and trading with elves and Men were the only methods for dwarves to get food.

"Hobbit farmers know the land like a Dwarf knows the stone. Rebuilding the farms would be easy, but the enemy knows where we are. They know we are defenseless here. We are farmers, not warriors. There is no doubt in my mind that if the Orcs and Wargs do not kill us, Men will. Every year, they take more liberties. Lobelia is just this generation's patsy."

"You cannot stay here, then", Mama said, wrapping the last bandage on the farmer's arm before handing out the new Athelas to the rest of the caregivers inside the tent. "But the land around the mountain will be a challenge, even for you. If your people will supply the Lonely Mountain with food, the Hobbits will forever be protected by their Dwarven friends."

The Farmer sighed and sat back in his chair, "The Hobbits will join your caravan. We'll grow food for you; not as slaves, but as allies. A symbiotic relationship that no one will break."

Placing Pippin and Merry on the bed, who looked overjoyed to go on an adventure, Lady Dis reached across Frodo's bed and shook hands with Farmer Maggot.

"Agreed" she said, before collapsing in a heap by Frodo's bed. Her armor moved enough in the fall to show a vicious Warg bite, the skin surrounding it looking angry and infected.

Gimli and the Hobbitlings were frozen in terror until he heard Mama mutter under her breath, "Hubris, thy name is Durin".

* * *

 

Tauriel watched in horror as Legolas ran off the edge of the cliff. There was nothing she could do but stand there as he fell. With all of the changes in the forest, both of them should've been more aware, but being chased by spiders the size of a horse proved...distracting.

"Mellon!" she yelled.

A large tree branch reached out over the edge of the cliff and wrapped around Legolas' waist just as a booming voice said "The world continues to move when you're in your shell, silly turtle."

Looking all around, Tauriel couldn't tell where the voice was coming from- there was no one. The horrible sound of the spiders was getting closer, however.

Several of them cleared the forest and surrounded her. Backing up was not an option as she stood at the very edge of the cliff. The ground beneath her started to fall away. Grabbing at a nearby tree limb, Tauriel could feel the tree limb moving under her hands as it gripped _back._

Several roots shot up out of the ground directly under the spiders, piercing the disgusting creatures. They made a horrible gurgling, choking sound before falling to the ground, dead.

A sigh of relief escaped her. It was only then that Tauriel saw their rescuer. A large tree began turning, slowly bringing Legolas from over the cliff and wrapping more branches around him to secure the squirming elf.

"While I appreciate you saving our lives, would you mind putting me down now?" Legolas said. After a short pause, almost as an afterthought, he said "And I'm not a turtle."

"No" said the tree.

With a frown on her face, Tauriel asked, "No, you won't put him down, or 'No, he is a turtle?'"

"Yes"

"I think I'd prefer the spiders" Legolas murmured. Before Tauriel could admonish him, for Ents were not know for understanding sarcasm or rhetorical questions, a strange wheezing sound came from the tree and most of the branches began trembling. Legolas, as an unwilling passenger, looked terrified as the tremors shook him for a moment before the sound stopped.

"What's happening?" Legolas asked, still clinging to the branches that only moments before he'd been trying to escape.

Slowly, unsure of the answer, Tauriel answered, "I think...it's laughing." A small smile crossed her face as the top of the tree swayed back and forth, nodding.

"It's been centuries since I've spoken. You'll forgive me if I need practice" the deep voice said, as several more branches reached for Tauriel. She fought against her natural instinct to duck away and allowed the tree to pick her up, level with Legolas' branches. "Let us move away from here, Little Turtles. Dead spiders are most unpleasant the longer one stands next to them."

The large tree began to slowly approach the edge of the cliff. To their surprise, it didn't stop at the edge, but started to walk down the cliffside, slow and steady. It was terrifying to be dangling in the branches as the roots dug new footholds as it "walked".

"Where are you taking us? And for that matter, what do we call you, our most courageous friend?" Tauriel asked. Legolas looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, no doubt questioning her attempt at flattery. She returned his look with one of her own, saying without words to follow her lead in this. At his small nod, she knew he would.

When she was little, her Grandmother would tell her all sorts of stories. They were wonderful tales about old magic. How the elves used to have an intimate connection with the forest they inhabited. Everything in the forest had a life, a spirit. Back then, the trees of the forest were alive and healthy, constantly moving and talking. The elves who followed the old ways would respect the power and beauty, and it, in turn, would protect the elves.

Grandmother never wanted her to be a warrior, but to explore the limits of her magic and surpass them. Sadly, Tauriel had been so focused on being the 'Captain of the Guards' that she rarely thought of magic and those old stories. She was startled to realize that it'd been centuries since a tree spoke in the Greenland Forest.

But, judging by the way the tree preened at being called courageous, Tauriel knew following her instincts had been the right choice.

"I am Treebeard, Little Turtle."

"We are grateful to you, Treebeard. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil. This is my friend and protector, Tauriel."

After Legolas finished speaking, Treebeard's branches suddenly tightened, the limbs moving both elves closer to the trunk. The roots clung to the side of the cliff, still several feet above the tree line of the valley below. Before the grip could become painful, Treebeard stopped pulling on them.

"Listen to me, Little Turtles, because I'll only say this once", Treebeard said, the deep voice was lowered, barely heard beyond his branches. "When we're near other trees, you must never say that you are elves, and especially that you're the 'Son of Thranduil."

"Why?"

With a deep sigh, the tree was unmoving for a long, tense moment. Looking at Legolas, she could see him calling on every ounce of patience he had. The Prince was not known for patience, but he seemed to realize that angering Treebeard was unwise.

"Every forest has an Ent-wife. The Ents will follow her like a queen to a beehive. When the dragon came to the mountain, the Ent-wife of this forest wanted to move as far from the fire-breathing monster as possible. Your Father implored her to reconsider. He didn't wish to uproot his people. When she refused, King Thranduil placed a terrible spell upon the trees of this forest, making us immobile. My brethren are not happy with the elves."

Tauriel wanted to argue, claiming that the king would never do such a terrible thing. Elves were supposed to protect the forest. The Ent-wife wanted to move the forest in order to protect her people. An Elven King would never cast such a terrible spell, taking away the will of the forest. But as much as Tauriel wanted to protest, she also knew in her heart that Treebeard wasn't lying.

Knowing this and speaking ill of her King, however, were two very different things. Staring at Legolas, she could see him deep in thought. Though they had never spoken of it, his father had changed over the years. Abandoning the dwarves to their fate was just one example of the surprising and disturbing orders that King Thranduil had issued lately.

"How are you able to move if he cast this spell?" she asked.

The tree started to move again, climbing down the cliffside, passing the top of the tree line until his roots finally clutched the floor of the forest below.

"Someone has changed the spell: releasing some trees and moving others until they're exactly where they should not be."

 _Thank you for not being cryptic,_ Tauriel thought.

"Where they should not be?" Legolas repeated.

Instead of answering, Treebeard asked, "Do you know why I call both of you 'turtles'?"

"No", Tauriel answered as Legolas shook his head. She watched in amazement as several trees, especially the smaller ones, moved out of the way so Treebeard could pass by. Several of the them would move their branches until the very tip of a limb would touch a branch on Treebeard. Grandmother had described this as a greeting that trees give to Fangorn- Guardian of the forest. She was so shocked at realizing that Treebeard was one of these warrior trees that she almost didn't hear his answer.

"For centuries, your people have hid, safe and secure in your home, never venturing outside of the forest. Hiding in the dark is all well and good, until it's not. So unaware, you don't even realize that someone has thrown your shell into the stew."

The giant tree cleared the forest, approaching the river that usually carried the barrels of wine back to the human settlement. "Look around, Little Turtles. Tell me what you see. What does the world look like outside of your shell?" Treebeard bellowed, frightening several birds in the forest to give flight.

"Elves don't usually travel down the river. These trees don't look familiar so we're nowhere near home" Legolas said, speaking aloud as he continued to scan the area.

It was only when Legolas looked at her confused face that he followed her line of sight. He gasped as he saw what Tauriel was starring at- the river bend. She could tell in that moment that he, too, knew exactly where they were.

The curve of the river was the perfect location for capturing the barrels. A net was pulled taut across the entire width of the river. Usually Girion's heir would travel the river daily to collect the barrels.

Bard the Bowman was a widower with children to support. It was a sad but well-known fact he wasn't a wealthy man. As he was paid per barrel, something was definitely wrong. The net was so filled with empty barrels that it looked ready to burst. There were dozens!

"Bard would never allow this many barrels to go unclaimed" Tauriel said.

Legolas also looked worried, "Perhaps something happened to him or he moved to another settlement of Man?"

"None of the people in Lake-town are wealthy. Someone would have taken over for Bard as a barrel-collector. No, Mellon. Something has happened to Lake-town."

Treebeard moved down the river, heading towards the lake. "This is only the beginning, Little Turtle. Your shell is no longer safe, especially at night."

 

 

 


End file.
